


Go Nowhere High, Go Nowhere Warm

by Klitch



Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: Human Experimentation, Implied/Referenced Character Death, KuroFai Olympics, Loss of Limbs, M/M, Machines, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-07 04:45:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 33,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15901161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Klitch/pseuds/Klitch
Summary: The war was over, but the winter was still long. Kurogane travels north and waits for spring.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: L’appel du vide: French — “The call of the void” is this French expression’s literal translation, but more significantly it’s used to describe the instinctive urge to jump from high places. I may have taken it somewhat literally.

_The snow was stained red with blood._

_Kurogane continued to drag himself up the hillside, one arm limp at his side, small red drops falling to mark his path. He was bleeding from a half dozen other places, cuts and scrapes, ankle slightly twisted from where he’d fallen off the dragon’s back. Ginryuu had taken the brunt of the impact that had thrown Kurogane entirely off her back, his arm crushed by one of her great metal legs as she’d landed hard in the middle of one of the ancient forests that dotted the northern borderlands._

_The snow was falling slowly, slim white snowflakes trickling to the ground like ashes, and moonlight reflected off white metal. Lying in a heap in front of him was the white phoenix — one of a pair, the great ‘unstoppable weapons’ of Fei Wang Reed._

‘ _Unstoppable,’ and the feral smile that crept across Kurogane’s face felt like an open wound._

_It was been their last attempt, at defeating the thing that had destroyed so many countries. The rest of the corps were all dead, they and their mounts torn apart in the final battle. Who knew how many foot troops were strewn about on the battlefield behind him, human soldiers trying to stand up against an army of machines that never tired, all evidence of the folly of a single man who had tried to bring the entire continent under his thumb._

_The wreckage of metal in front of him lay perfectly still, bits of pure white metal shimmering in the snow like crystals around it. It looked too serene somehow, too beautiful — delicate like his mother’s china, not at all like the monster in the sky that he had faced down before. Bits and pieces of the white phoenix were scattered everywhere, bone white, some dotted with blue curves or a deep black on red symbol to mark its allegiance. Kurogane climbed atop it on shaking legs, the only sound in the air a soft hiss as he drew his biosword and cut open the frame to reveal what lay inside its heart._

_Blue eyes stared back at him, and Kurogane’s entire body froze._

“ _Please…take…you…”_

_It was nothing but a blur in his mind, the truth of it all in front of him that he hadn’t wanted to see, and Kurogane raised his sword._

_—_

Kurogane’s feet sunk deep into the snow and he swore quietly, readjusting his grip on his pack. It had to be the fifth time now, where he’d gone from stepping on solid ground to sinking halfway to his knees in the snow as the land dipped under him. His boots were soaked through by now, the same old patched pair he’d been wearing since the middle of the war, and he hadn’t even thought about buying a new pair before he’d left the Last Village half an hour ago. He could turn back, of course, and spend another night at the inn, but that would be wasting time. The plan had been that he would reach the cabin before the second moon set, while there was still enough moonlight to navigate by. The northern borderlands were dangerous, after all, and only a fool would stay outside once both moons had set. As long as he reached the cabin before the first moonset there would be enough time to start a fire and unpack the essentials, and possibly get a quick message out to Tomoyo before he bedded down for the night. She would wonder if he was a day late.

There had been enough problems getting him assigned to this outpost as it was, too much red tape and bureaucracy. The position of warden of the north had been empty since the war had really broken out in full, and the members of the Outo council had not been in any hurry to fill it. Kurogane offering had been cause enough for complaint — the great ‘war hero,’ choosing to spend his time in the godforsaken northlands rather than sticking around the capitol to be paraded around like a stupid parrot for people to gawk at. It had been Tomoyo who had managed to soothe the worries of the rest of the council, who had reminded them that the northern borderland had been the site of one of the two great last battles of the war. She’d allowed the rest of the council to draw their own conclusions, to assume that the unspoken mission was to make sure no part of ‘that’ remained active that could have been missed.

There had probably been a second unspoken mission by that time, he was sure: to get rid of someone inconvenient wandering around and ruining the parade of back patting and singing about glorious victory. Victory wasn’t glorious, it was bloody and ashen and stained your fingers in ways that wouldn’t rub off, but the men who sat in high buildings and talked about politics wouldn’t think of that, and Kurogane had not been willing to play frilly victory games the way other ‘heroes’ might.

Kurogane figured it was the same for Tomoyo, in the end. She’d taken him in when his country was destroyed at the risk of her own position and had teased him more than once for having no head for politics. When he’d suggested she was getting him out of her hair, though, she’d only laughed at him and said the northern border was the best place for him to find the things he was looking for. Kurogane, in reply, had told her to cut the crap and say it plainly.

She’d only smiled, of course, and repeated her own words. But Kurogane knew.

His feet sunk into another snowdrift and Kurogane grumbled out another curse, carefully extricating his foot. His mechanical arm wheezed and whirled with the movement, and he pulled up his sleeve to get a look at it. It was crude technology — nothing like some of what he’d seen others on the field fitted with, those fancy useless arms that they convinced themselves looked like real flesh when anyone who knew what a human arm _should_ look like could tell the difference — but it suited his purposes and that was all he needed. The arm itself looked fine, a bit rusted and the metal a bit dull, but as he felt along the joints with his other hand everything seemed in its place. He placed two fingers along a circular valve right at the joint, letting the small metal cap pop open so he could see the glowing blue substance inside.

Artificial soul, they called it. Whoever had discovered the thing had a stupid sense of romantics, in Kurogane’s opinion. Not that he knew what exactly it was himself — something vaguely liquid that could be poured from a vial and would hold its shape inside the right container, and he’d rarely touched the soul itself with his human fingers. He assumed it was some kind of fuel that no one had managed an explanation for and so they’d made up crap about ‘souls.’ It burnt brightly while it was still active, the power enough to give a dead piece of metal like Kurogane’s arm movement, an essential part of any mechanical prosthetic. It was something of a rare commodity, difficult to obtain even for the ‘normal’ blue type, and he’d brought multiple vials for the trip up. There was a kid in the Last Village, the one remaining settlement at the edge of the borderlands, who he’d made a deal with to procure more for him the next time he stopped back and he would have to keep an eye on the supply to make sure he didn’t run out. That was the last thing he needed, to have the soul go dim while he was still hiking his way through the forest heavy with winter snow, with soaked boots and relying on the mechanical arm to do the heavy lifting of his supply pack.

The blue soul would last a little longer, and could be replaced when it ran out. Kurogane had only ever seen two other kinds, and one of those he knew had a time limit.

The other…Kurogane’s hands tightened along the straps of his pack, which suddenly felt twice as heavy as before.

The snow seemed to be coming down harder, and it was difficult to see through the trees. Another annoyance — that there was snow was something he’d expected, with the Long Winter showing no signs of ending despite forecasts to the contrary. But he’d been hoping for better visibility, that he might see the silhouette of…well, he’d take care of that in time too. In any case, he’d been here all of a couple hours and he was already fucking sick of snow.

Something was wavering in front of him, a small glowing blue light darting between tree trunks, and Kurogane froze. He could hear it now, even with the wind whistling in his ears and through the branches of the trees around him. Something was coming closer, steadily, and Kurogane leaned back into a battle stance without even thinking, a hand on his sword.

One person and an animal, from the sound of their footsteps. He could only barely sense their presence, which was enough to put him on edge. It wasn’t out of the question that there could still be enemy soldiers lingering about — there had once been a great battle in this place, and not all those who had fought in it had been human. The lack of presence, in particular…Kurogane grimaced and his metal arm itched even though he should have long lost any feeling in it.

The trees rustled and in a single movement Kurogane drew his sword and pressed it against the neck of the man who had appeared almost out of nowhere, holding the lead of a white reindeer in one hand and a thin silver staff topped by a lamp in the other.

“That’s not a nice way of saying ‘hello.’” The man smiled brightly, as if Kurogane’s sword wasn’t inches from his throat, and Kurogane didn’t so much as relax a muscle.

“Who are you?”

“Hmm…aren’t guests supposed to introduce themselves first? So rude, Mr. Black.” The wind bit at the man’s fur-lined hood and it fell back, revealing light blond hair and a calm smile. There was a collar around the man’s neck, Kurogane’s sword just pressed against the smooth golden edges, but there was no lock, nor any sign that it would be something that belonged to a prisoner. The man’s coat was heavier than Kurogane’s and seemed slightly too big for his thin frame. The reindeer behind him didn’t even so much as blink at the danger its master was in, and there was a glowing stone in its forehead, teal in color, that burned with the unmistakeable fire of artificial soul. Kurogane’s eyes traveled lower and he could just make out the metal joints beneath a covering of soft white fur.

That explained why he hadn’t sensed the deer, at least. A machine could take the shape of something living, but that didn’t make it alive.

“Mr. Black?” The man waved a hand in front of his face and Kurogane glared at him.

“Stop calling me that.” The idiot’s smile only seemed to get wider and Kurogane wondered if anyone would care if he just cut the man up right here.

“But I don’t know your name!” The man laughed easily, eyes meeting Kurogane’s, and Kurogane’s grip tightened on his sword. One of the man’s eyes was blue and the other a glittering gold, and there was something just slightly off in the way they focused on Kurogane’s face.

Artificial eyes. Kurogane had heard of them, but he’d never met anyone with that kind of modification before.

“Wait, I think I know…” The man was still talking, curiously bringing up a hand to cup his chin despite the sword still dangerously close to his neck. “The new warden of the north. You’re…Kuro-ru, right?”

“ _Kurogane.”_ Kurogane narrowed his eyes. “Who told you?”

“There was a message sent some time ago. That a new warden was coming.” The smile was still plastered easily on that face, as false as the eyes. “I’ve been taking care of the clean up in this area. Ah, you can call me Fai, all right, Kuro-rin?”

“My name is Kurogane.” Kurogane didn’t lower his sword. “No one told me there was anyone living up here.”

“Of course not. I’m a state secret.” Fai put a finger to his lips, false eyes shining. “You should get to the cabin as soon as you can, before the storm gets worse. Put your things on Mokona, okay, Kuro-sama? It will be easier to move in the snow if you’re not bogged down.”

“I can carry it on my own.” Kurogane pushed past Fai without another word, sheathing his sword as he went. Fai didn’t even miss a beat, nudging Mokona into a turn as he got into step behind Kurogane. There was an unnatural smoothness to his movements and Kurogane found himself watching as Fai navigated his way through the snow.

An artificial leg at least, to go with the eyes. The wrist was probably fake too, judging by the way he held the reindeer’s lead. It was impossible to tell for sure with the way Fai was wrapped up in the cloak but the ease of those movements spoke to some high level craftsmanship, more than anything Kurogane had ever seen fitted to a human before. No wonder there had been so little presence to sense.

“You noticed, right?” Fai said quietly behind him, a perfectly bland smile still plastered on his face.

“I don’t care.” Kurogane didn’t even bother to look at him. What had happened to Fai, to have him end up with those kinds of modifications, it wasn’t anything Kurogane needed to be concerned about.

“You too.” Fai came up alongside him. “You need to go right here.”

“There isn’t much maintenance for someone with mechanical parts up here What kind of idiot would choose to come up this way for no reason?” Kurogane was watching him with clear suspicion, and even so Fai only laughed in reply.

“What’s a dragonrider doing all the way in the northern borderlands?” Fai countered with an easy smile. “It’s all right. I’m only something cunningly disguised as human, most of these days.”

Kurogane snorted, eyes narrowed as he increased his pace to create some distance between himself and Fai. Fai crossed it in a heartbeat, feet skipping through the snow with the reindeer keeping step behind him, footsteps as light as if walking on clouds.

“You shouldn’t be so grumpy, Kuro-tan,” Fai said. “It’s already so gloomy up here as it is, you’ll start growing icicles in your hair.”

“Stop following me,” Kurogane said by way of a reply, not even looking at him.

“There’s no need to be so unfriendly, Kuro-pu.” He seemed to be coming up with a new name every time he spoke and it put Kurogane’s teeth on edge. Fai’s voice somehow managed to rise above even the howling wind and it was twice as grating. “After I came to show you the way.”

“I didn’t ask for a guide,” Kurogane stated. “There isn’t supposed to be anyone this far north except the warden.”

“I told you, Kuro-sama, I’m a state secret.” Fai shrugged. “It’s a dangerous time right now. Things will only get worse until spring finally comes.”

“Spring.” Kurogane spat the word out. As if he believed that spring would be coming, not when the Long Winter seemed as strong as ever.

“The forecasters have been saying all the signs point to the end being soon. Until then, this area won’t see anything like warmth.” There was a dark cast to Fai’s eyes, shadows and snow, and the light on his staff wavered.

“I know that.” Of course he knew it. He had last been here in a howling storm too, flying above the clouds towards a winged shape so large it blocked out even the brighter of the two moons. The battle had been long and bloody, and at the end even the armored convoys had encountered too much difficulty to properly clean up the aftermath. Air travel was still off limits and a luxury at that, the memory of shadows in the sky still too fresh.

“You’ve been here before, huh, Kuro-rin?” Fai’s lantern cast small shadows on the snow, and Kurogane could hear the steady crunch of Mokona’s footsteps along with his own. Fai’s, however, made no sound at all.

“That’s none of your business.” The hill was definitely sloping now, and he could just see above the tree line to the clear midnight sky above.

“So cold, Kuro-sama. And here I wanted to be friends.” Fai pressed a hand to his chest, feigning injury even as his artificial eyes danced. “If you need anything, let me know, okay?”

“Why the hell would I ask you for anything?” Kurogane finally turned to face him and Fai shrugged, holding the lantern behind his back with both hands, light dancing off the collar at his neck.

“It’s always nice to ask favors of your neighbors.” Fai gave him a small wave, clicking his tongue at Mokona as he turned the reindeer back the way they had come. “Make sure to get some rest soon, Kuro-sama. It’s dangerous to come up to the northalnds this far without keeping your strength up.”

A flurry of white coat and he was gone, disappearing back into the trees. Kurogane stared at the spot where he’d been and then turned with a scowl, continuing the last stretch of the way up the slope alone.

A guide, Fai had said, and Kurogane didn’t believe that for a second. The northlands were enough of a shithole that no one would go there _voluntarily_ ( _except you_ a voice too much like Tomoyo’s whispered, and Kurogane shook his head). There was the possibility of a spy, someone left over from the final battle who had taken the chance to defect and had been hiding all this time but that seemed unlikely — there was no way an idiot like that had been used for anything in an army except maybe target practice. A deserter surviving on his own this long in the frozen mountains seemed unlikely as well, and Kurogane felt another spike of annoyance. For all he knew the council had been aware of Fai and simply hadn’t told him, assuming Kurogane would refuse the position if he knew there were _idiots_ infesting the forest.

The sky was finally visible above him and he could make out the cabin sitting alone on the spot known as the Dragon’s Wingtip. Even at this distance he could see it, the way the mountain dipped off abruptly into a steep cliff face and then seemed to almost fold itself over, creating a spiral not unlike the curled tip of a dragon’s wing. The cabin looked almost precarious perched right along the edge, as if a strong wind could send it over without any warning at all.

If he’d been afraid of heights Kurogane thought he might have been worried about that, but then he wouldn’t have been here at all if that was the case. The last time he’d had both arms, and a mount to carry him, but still — once, he’d been able to fly.

Kurogane shook his head, disgusted with himself, and stepped inside the cabin. It was cold and threadbare, the few pieces of furniture covered by a thin layer of dust. Kurogane set his pack at his feet and reached inside, hands closing over a small silk pouch.

He lifted it out, carefully, the item inside feeling warm even against his metal hand. There was a light shining from within in the pouch and Kurogane slowly opened it, setting it onto the table in front of him.

A pure golden artificial soul, shining brightly.

The thing that he had retrieved from the heart of Fei Wang Reed’s white phoenix, though he could not remember how.

—

In the middle of the darkness and the snow, Fai stood on the cliff’s edge and stared down at the cabin. The light in the windows had gone out, and even the light at the end of Fai’s staff had been snuffed. Everything around him was dark, nothing but a flat black plain lit sparsely by snow, and by the white fur of Mokona’s coat as the reindeer waited patiently for him at the treeline.

_So that’s him, hmm?_ One hand touched the collar around his neck, a rueful smile on his face. His gloves were soaked through from the snow and he wondered if he could still feel the cold properly if he took them off.

Above him the clouds were covering the moon again, and Fai breathed deeply.

There wasn’t much time left. He could feel the clock running, all that remained burning weakly at his fingertips. He wouldn’t be able to fly in that sky again, not now.

But it had been fun, watching Kurogane’s angry face, and Fai smiled despite himself. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad. Kurogane might grant his wish after all. And until then…

_That’s the line I can’t cross._ He would have to be careful, from now on. Fai stepped away from the cliff and made his way back towards the forest, letting the snowfall cover his tracks behind him.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“ _Once upon a time, all people had wings.”_

_It was a favorite story of his mother’s. He would sit at her feet, listening to the cadence of her voice as it rose and fell, her words weaving stories as deftly as her hands wove cloth. Even though the Long Winter had begun when she was just a girl she would tell him tales of the sun, of birds flying in clear blue skies. She would tell him of people who flew between the clouds, who danced with great winged beasts and did battle with them._

_He listened, as a child. Even as he got older he could never bring himself to tell her to stop greeting him with stories. Her health was frail then, and his father was far away on the eastern border chasing rumblings of war. He would return from time to time, face lined with worry even as he smiled and greeted them, and told them about a man named Fei Wang Reed who was a scientist of the neighboring Outo country and claimed to have invented a machine that would end war forever._

“ _Once upon a time, all people had wings.” He remembered those words, remembered her long black hair pulled back and the soft purple fabric of the robes she wore that day. He had gone out to practice his swordsmanship in the upper valleys, and she’d touched his shoulder and told him to be back in time for supper._

_He was not far out of sight of the shrine when he saw the orange glow on the horizon. It was too bright to be one of the moons and the Long Winter was nowhere near its end. His hand had tightened over the hilt of his sword as a dark silhouette filled the whole of the sky, white wings spread like a great bird of prey and it cast a shadow along the ground as far as the eye could see._

_White light and the force of an impact, and everything burned._

Kurogane woke up slowly, the dream fading from his mind and his whole body feeling stiff and sore, legs aching still from his trek up the mountainside in the snow. The fire had gone out while he’d slept and there was a cold wind blowing through the cabin even with the door shut and the windows closed. It was in worse shape than he’d expected, with floorboards that creaked with every step and old pipes that barely carried heat throughout the entire cabin. He’d ended up sleeping in a chair, forgoing the freezing cold bedroom even though he knew his body would be paying for it in the morning. It wasn’t worth complaining about anyway — he’d slept in far worse places than this, with even less room to move. Even with the war over, the instincts of a soldier would be slow in leaving.

The clock on the wall was correct at least, and Kurogane took a moment to let the feeling seep back into his limbs as he stood. There was a deep aching pain where his other arm had once been, a phantom reminder of what he’d lost, and he ignored it as he dug the communicator out of his pack, punching in Tomoyo’s frequency. There was a fine fuzz of static on the other end but that was to be expected, this early and this far north, and he sighed in annoyance as he began to tap out a sequence that would be transmitted on the other end as words in short, crude sentences. He’d fallen asleep last night without sending the report as he’d meant to, and he had too much to do today to be bothered by emergency communications checking up on him. First he would need to do the rounds of the area, to familiarize himself. He could see out the windows that the snow seemed to have died down, and both moons were bright in the sky. He would bring a lantern anyway, just in case.

Kurogane crouched down near his pack again, removing the rations he’d stored there. It would be enough for a quick breakfast, and then—

“Kuro-sama! Breakfast!” There was a sharp knock against the door that made Kurogane’s nerves go immediately on edge, hand going to his waist a moment before he recalled that he’d removed the sword last night and hadn’t yet retrieved it. The sound of the voice was far too cheerful for this early in the day, when the second moon had only just risen and he was still shaking off the last edges of sleep.

“Go away.” Kurogane raised his voice enough that he was certain it could be heard through the thin wooden door, but another knock came anyway.

“Kuro-sama? Ah, were you inviting me in?” The door creaked and Kurogane wondered how difficult it would be to install a lock. Presumably no warden of the north had ever needed one, but no warden had ever had to deal with _this_ either.

“I said, go away.” He straightened, sword in hand, and the door opened wide to reveal Fai standing there in his fluffy coat holding a leather pouch in both hands.

“Isn’t it nice getting to meet your neighbors?” Fai stepped inside without even acknowledging the scowl Kurogane was giving him, looking around as if he owned the place before making a sound that Kurogane assumed was supposed to be a whistle. “I love what you’ve done with the place.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Kurogane moved to block him from coming inside any further and Fai sidestepped him as if Kurogane wasn’t anything more than an inconvenient tree stump.

“You’re giving me the suspicious face again.” Fai smiled widely and held out the pouch in his hands. “I brought you breakfast.”

“Breakfast?” Kurogane eyed the pouch as if it was filled with poisonous herbs (which he was assuming it likely was) and Fai gave a sigh that sounded far too similar to that of a long-suffering parent.

“Of course. You brought that single pack with you, right? And I bet there’s only soldier rations in there.” Kurogane looked away and he could _hear_ the triumphant smile as Fai started to open the pouch. “I’m afraid it’s not much — salted meat, toast and some jam. In a place like this skipping a meal can be dangerous.”

“I don’t need you to tell me that.” It was annoying but the other man was right — Kurogane had brought a small portion of rations along and he’d purchased some food before leaving the Last Village as well, but he’d intended most of his food to come from hunting and the snowstorm had made doing anything of the sort on his trek up here difficult. Fai held out a strip of cured meat to him and Kurogane took it with a scowl, taking a taste. It was leathery and already chilled from the cold outside but better than some of the food he’d had during his time in the army, and the salt gave it just enough of a flavor to keep from being completely tasteless. Fai tilted his head slightly, his artificial eyes following Kurogane’s movements and something in his expression that made Kurogane’s body tense despite himself.

“Good boy, Kuro-sama. Here, I brought you a treat too.” Fai held out what looked to be a ball of fried dough covered in sugar, waving it up above Kurogane’s head like a dog trainer offering a reward in exchange for a trick.

“I don’t eat sweet crap like that.” Kurogane took another strip of meat instead, turning his face away.

“Don’t be like that. It’s tasty.” Fai waved his hand again and Kurogane steadfastly ignored him. Finally Fai lowered his hand, giving Kurogane a thoughtful look.

“Why are you still—” Kurogane’s words were cut off sharply as Fai clapped a palm over his mouth, the ball of fried dough pushed in so suddenly Kurogane almost choked. He grabbed at Fai’s arm and for a moment he could feel it — even under the gloves, nothing like human skin there, not just the wrist but the entire arm the same as Kurogane’s. He choked down the food, coughing as he pulled Fai’s hand away. “Are you trying to _kill_ me?!”

“That’s a good puppy!” Fai made a small dancing motion with his feet, not even caring that Kurogane was staring at him with a glare of certain death. The movement stopped suddenly and Kurogane leaned to the side to see what it was that had caught Fai’s attention.

The golden artificial soul, still there on the table where Kurogane had left it last night.

Kurogane reached out again and grabbed Fai by the wrist, dragging him out of the cabin into the snow.

“That hurts, Kuro-rin,” Fai complained mildly as they stepped outside, Kurogane shutting the door of the cabin behind him. “I was just looking. I didn’t expect a person like Kuro-sama to have something so pretty.”

“It isn’t _pretty._ ” As if the core of a beast could ever be _pretty._ “And it’s none of your business. You brought food, so go away.”

“I’m not going to steal it. Something like that doesn’t have any value all the way up here.” There was a slight hollow cast to his words, stiff like a tree trunk, that made Kurogane’s eyes narrow. Fai waved a hand, laughing. “You seem like you don’t trust me, huh? Like you think I’m someone suspicious, right?”

“You are.” Kurogane said it bluntly, not seeing the point in dancing around cheap pleasantries. “This place should be abandoned. Only the warden of the north lives out in the middle of nowhere like this.”

“Things change.” Fai shrugged. “I told you last night, Kuro-tan. I’m a guide. If you need to find something, I’ll take you to it.”

“I don’t need you to show me the way around here.” The last time he’d seen this place had been by air. Even so, he knew where he was headed today.

“Is that so?” Fai’s pleasant tone of voice didn’t change. “I would hate for you to get lost.”

“If you want to get lost on your own that’s fine. This is a job I can do alone.” He hadn’t come all this way for the _company,_ that was certain. He’d had comrades once, and they were dead. That meant the last duty fell to Kurogane alone, and that was fine with him. Without another word he let go of Fai’s hand roughly and walked past him towards the treeline, cloak wrapped around his shoulders.

It was still bitterly cold but the snow had turned from a blinding torrent to a small soft falling, the kind he remembered seeing back in the days when he was a child when the Long Winter had not been quite so fierce. That had been another story his mother told him, of when the winter ended and the spring came, when the moons would disappear and the sun take their place. He’d been born in winter and grown in winter, and as he walked through the trees bent heavy with snow he found himself doubtful that the weather seers had been correct in their predictions. Spring was nowhere near happening, not in this place.

Now that the second moon was in the sky and the snow had slowed he could finally get a good look at the terrain as he made his way through the trees. Even this far north in the middle of nowhere there were signs of what the war had brought: deep gashes in the earth that wouldn’t heal, not this soon, and downed trees burned black. There were still bits of metal littered half-buried in the snow or jutting out like bones, pushed up against a tree or a snow bank. There were animals around too now that the storm had passed, silhouettes that moved furtively between trees and kept their distance. There were likely more dangerous beasts around too, more creatures made of metal and moved by artificial soul that hadn’t yet run out. Fei Wang’s two great weapons of the air had forerunners on the ground, and many of those had managed to escape even during his last battle.

He could almost make out another moving shadow in the distance between the trees — _Ginryuu,_ _still where she had fallen —_ but Kurogane kept walking, making his rounds. There was something like a path here, half buried, ropes tied along the trees to mark the area. Though the trail broke in parts here and there Kurogane still knew his path. He’d been here before, the trees like ants beneath him. If he was right, the trees would be thinning out soon.

Behind him he could hear the softest sound of footsteps on snow, Fai following just behind without a word, and Kurogane didn’t feel like wasting the energy to turn and tell him to go away.

Kurogane’s metal hand unconsciously flexed and he could almost feel the artificial soul at the joint pulsing. He grimaced, irritated at the weakness and the reminder of his own uselessness, and kept walking until the trees disappeared, replaced by shattered trunks and charred stumps, by the bones of a forest that had been sheared clean.

The sky opened up abruptly in front of him, and Kurogane stood before the corpse of a battlefield.

It looked almost as if it had been untouched since he’d last been here, nearly a moon cycle ago. The northern borderlands were difficult to navigate with the metal dragons all lost in the final battle and so few other transports remaining that were capable of flight. The snow had swallowed up much of what had been left behind and the scavengers had taken their pick of the rest, but despite that so much still remained as a visible reminder of what had taken place here — old gun turrets and fallen weapons, a disembodied dragon leg lying on its side, a metal tail that nearly blocked the entrance to the battlefield. In the center there was a what looked like a severed wing, made of smooth white and blue metal that opened up into razor sharp feathers. Once upon a time there had been artificial soul burning at the ends of those feathers, combined with some mix of heat and light and who knew what else to produce a beam so strong not even the thickest metal could stand against it.

This was the place where one of the great weapons had fallen, after all, along with all of Kurogane’s comrades. He approached the wing slowly, as if facing an enemy that could strike at any time. Souma had cut off this one, hadn’t she? And Ryuuou had maneuvered his dragon to take the brunt of the counterattack as the weapon had lurched to one side, still hanging in the air, and the scream of metal on metal had sounded almost like the shriek of a banshee even with the wind blowing in his ears.

There were other pieces here too, Kurogane was sure. One of the ‘legs,’ that had been cut off first. A long serrated ‘tail,’ that had sliced the head off the dragon that managed to cut it off with its final movements. The weapon like a great phoenix made all of blue and white metal and burning hot flames, that had thrashed and screamed in the air before finally crashing to the ground with Ginryuu’s claws in its gut.

It had still managed to move then, writhing, pitched forward in the snow, crawling forward like a deer with an arrow in its belly still trying to escape the hunter. Kurogane had fallen from the dragon’s back in their final descent but he was still able to walk, still able to finish the mission. Still strong enough to plunge a laser sword into the weapon’s stomach, to pry apart sheet metal plates and finally see the thing that had been at the heart of it.

The thing that was—

That was—

_Wide eyes staring up at him and he couldn’t believe that_ this _was what he had to kill,_ this _was what had taken everything from him, with begging eyes and hands that held out its own heart desperately—_

Kurogane stumbled slightly, metal arm hitting the snow hard with his fist clenched. When he’d awoken later in the hospital he hadn’t been able to recall what had been inside that thing beyond the golden soul that had been handed to him. Generals and strategists had paraded in, questioned him as if he would be idiot enough to lie, and even so there had been no answer. One of the council members had been the one to suggest he take the soul with him, as if it would jog his memory. Who knew what _that_ witch had been thinking, giving him what amounted to classified information to drag to the edge of the world in hopes of dredging up a memory that didn’t matter anyway. Regardless of what had been at the weapon’s heart he’d made his decision long ago — that whatever threatened the ones he’d sworn to protect would die by his hand. No matter what. No point in being weak-hearted now, when the deed was long done.

“Careful, Kuro-rin!” A voice sang into his ears from above and Kurogane looked around, swearing as he righted himself. He wasn’t used to being surprised, and he didn’t like it, particularly not when the thing surprising him was _Fai,_ whose presence he had forgotten entirely.

There was no sign of Fai anywhere around him and Kurogane was about to wonder if the idiot had hidden himself beneath some of the rubble lying around when his senses finally alerted him and he whirled, pulling out his sword in one swift movement and slicing apart the projectile that had been aimed right at his head.

A snowball fell to the ground, cut in two, and Kurogane snorted.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He directed the question upwards, and Fai’s face leaned down at him and smiled from where the blond was perched halfway up the white wing. Kurogane had no idea how the moron had even gotten up there in the first place.

“Good catch, Kuro-tan!” Fai applauded helpfully as Kurogane sheathed his sword, disgusted. “That was fast. So cool!”

“Get down from there.” He didn’t have time for an idiot’s chatter, especially not one that was climbing around where idiots shouldn’t be. “This isn’t some damn playground.”

“But I’m not playing.” Even with the distance between them he could make out Fai’s smile, already irritating every last nerve, and Kurogane wondered if his metal arm had enough strength to just push the damn wing on its side to see what would happen. Fai moved easily between the notches on the wing, as if skipping along a tightrope. “I was observing the terrain.”

“This isn’t a place for _observing_ either.” Kurogane roughly tapped his metal arm against the frame of the wing and it reverberated beneath his touch without falling over. “I told you to go away already.”

“So _unfriendly.”_ Fai looked up, raising a hand towards the sky. “Hey, Kuro-rin…you had wings too once, right?”

Kurogane didn’t know why he paused, why he looked up, and that irritated him almost as much as his own movements.

“I flew on a dragon. That’s all.”

“They don’t use airships anymore, huh?” Fai was sitting along the sloping edge of the wing now, legs dangling over the side and head tilted upward. “The sky looks so empty, don’t you think?”

“The only ships left have better things to do than fly up here. Everyone has to rebuild after the war.” Things anyone should know, but Fai nodded and looked as though he was absorbing the information like a traveler from a far away land learning a new history for the first time. “And even if there were any to spare, no one wants to see a shadow in the sky, even if they know what it is.”

“Hmm…that’s a shame. It’s wide and empty with only the clouds and the stars.” Fai held up an arm into the air, wavering slightly on his perch.

“No one flies. There’s no point in staring upward when you have work to do on the ground.” He’d given that up too. Ginryuu’s artificial soul was already too drained to even rise from the ground, and he didn’t intend to ever fly again on anything else.

“So practical. No wonder they sent you up here, Kuro-sama.” Fai glanced down at him, rocking forward a little. “Just the kind of person who doesn’t look up unless an enemy is there, huh?”

“That’s right. And I’ve got work to do, so I don’t have time to stare at the stars with idiots.”

“Unfriendly.” Fai wrinkled his nose and then glanced up sharply. “Ah!”

“What—?” Kurogane looked up, following his gaze almost instinctively, a hand on his sword.

“Catch, Kuro-sama!” And then Fai launched himself from the top of the wing without warning, legs braced against the side to give himself extra height and for a moment his silhouette obscured the moon, arms spread wide and there was a shadow on the ground, covering everything —

— _a shadow, and everything burned, his mother and his home and himself —_

Without intending to he held out his arms and Fai landed neatly his grasp, grinning and putting an arm around his shoulders.

“My hero!”

Kurogane grunted and promptly dumped him into the snow.

“ _Mean,_ Kuro-rin.” Fai didn’t seem fazed by the drop, and even though he was sitting in the middle of a snowdrift he didn’t seem cold at all. Kurogane found himself staring down, taking a closer look at his unwanted companion.

The artificial eyes that he’d already noted, gold and blue. The leg that he’d noticed before, and the arm. Possibly the other arm as well, around the shoulder, and whatever the hell was under the collar. For all that he’d been surprisingly light, considering how much of him was metal.

“’Is there any human left in there?’” Fai’s voice broke through his thoughts, echoing as if off the walls of a tomb, and he was smiling with eyes that were suddenly nothing but hollow robotics. “That’s what you were wondering, right?”

“It’s no business of mine.” Kurogane turned away abruptly. He could hear the crunch of snow behind him as Fai got up but he couldn’t feel the other man’s presence at all even as Fai settled into a steady gait beside him. Kurogane glanced over at him out of one eye. “That’s a lot of enhancement for a _guide._ ”

“There was a lot that needed fixing.” The words were said with a careless air, Fai’s hands behind his back. “You have it too, right Kuro-sama? Parts that needed fixing,” He looked pointedly down at Kurogane’s arm.

“I didn’t ask for it.” He hadn’t. Tomoyo had offered it, and he’d taken it because idiot generals kept saying shit about properly repaying the debt of a war hero.

“It comes in handy, doesn’t it?” Fai laughed at his own pun. “It feels like your own arm. But it’s not.”

“It’s functional. That’s all I need.” Kurogane shrugged.

“Of course.” Fai’s steps slowed and Kurogane looked up. In front of them there were more pieces of the white phoenix along with what looked to be the scattered remains of some of Fei Wang Reed’s robotic foot troops. Lying between them, barely visible with the fine layer of snow covering them, were three bodies wearing the uniform of the Outo alliance. They had been sliced neatly through the stomach and their eyes were still opened, though the blood had long dried.

Kurogane paused, taking in the sight for a moment. He’d known of course — he wasn’t some starry eyed new recruit, to think there wouldn’t be human bodies here. There hadn’t been time or resources to clean them all away. Even so, it was another stark reminder of what this place had been, of the tunnel he’d not quite crawled out of yet.

Beside him Fai lowered his head, eyes oddly serious as he pressed his palms together. Kurogane snorted and Fai glanced over at him, head slightly cocked and looking for a moment like nothing but a marionette with strings unraveling.

“You don’t intend to bury them, Kuro-sama?”

“The ground’s too hard for that.” There wasn’t a point to it now, not really. A final resting place was a final resting place, be it above or below.

“And no rites to say? What do they do in the place you’re from, Kuro-rin? For people who have fallen off the edge into the void.”

“Void?” Kurogane scoffed. “They’re dead. There’s no point in saying words for people who can’t hear them.”

“Someone told me once, that when the light goes out there’s just…well, that’s not really the same as this. They were alive once, after all. So your people don’t speak rites for the dead?”

“My mother used to.” That had been her job as well, as high priestess. At the time he’d thought it an important job. Now it seemed like a waste of breath. “I don’t.”

“They don’t say rites for the dead, you know.” Fai was looking up towards the sky again, moonlight reflected in his eyes. “Those are for the living. A small memory to cling to. But it doesn’t bring anyone back, in the end.”

“It doesn’t. That’s why I’m not wasting my time on the dead, while I’m still living. I have better things to do than read out rites for ears that won’t hear.”

“I see.” Fai looked back at him, face unreadable. “You really are a practical person, aren’t you?” His eyes were shadowed but there was something satisfied in his smile, as if Kurogane had answered a question he hadn’t even known was being asked. “I don’t dislike that kind of person.”

“I dislike frivolous idiots,” Kurogane muttered under his breath, turning to walk away, and the sun seemed to rise in Fai’s smile as he followed.

“Then I’m the sort of person you hate the most, huh?”

“Exactly. So go away.” Not that he expected it would work, but it made him feel less irritated being able to say it.

“That’s not nice, Kuro-sama. You’ll be lost without me.”

“How the hell am I _lost?”_

“For one thing, you’re going the wrong way already.” Fai tapped his shoulder, his golden eye shining like the moon. “You want to see her too, right? She’s this way.”

Kurogane grunted, annoyed, but adjusted his course anyway.

“It’s unexpectedly sentimental of you, Kuro-sama. To be visiting a machine.” Fai was watching him intently, and Kurogane shrugged.

Ginryuu was a machine, he knew that, the same way his sword was only a weapon. But he’d left her here, so that made her his responsibility.

“I’m taking care of a loose end.” His voice was dismissive. He didn’t need to explain himself to an idiot, that was for damn sure.

“Of course.” The upturned smirk of Fai’s lips said he didn’t believe that in the least, despite the words his mouth formed. “She should be right ahead.”

Kurogane didn’t bother to acknowledge the words, only speeding up his steps slightly to put some distance between himself and Fai. He could already see flashes of gray between the trees, and there was a shadow above that spoke to more than just the forest canopy.

There was a creak of metal and suddenly a great steel face stared back at him.

Ginryuu was where he had left her, kneeling in the snow that had since covered most of her legs. There were still deep gashes in the gray-black metal of her hide, and her wings lay flat against the ground, the edges sharp enough that they had lodged themselves into the frigid ground. As far as the steel dragons went she was on the smaller side — somewhat bigger than a large horse, enough so that a single rider could control her. Her hide was made of thick steel slabs that had once been set with thin sheets of a hard clear metal made from gemstones, to help gather solar energy and to mimic the look of scales. At the joint of each of her four legs there was a small depository for artificial soul, each one working in tandem to move the body. He could see that three of the four were gone now, two cracked and emptied in her final flight and the third gone drained and dull. The fourth was still intact and that leg continued to twitch just slightly, the sound of metal grating against metal reverberating though the clearing. Ginryuu swung her great head around as he approached, the empty spaces for her eyes glowing weakly with the same red soul that had mostly drained from the ports in her legs. The light was still too bright to stare at long, as it always had been, but even so Kurogane felt there had been something like _recognition_ there. He dismissed the thought a moment later. A machine was only a machine, even if it had the look of something more.

“I’m back.” It felt stilted and flat in his ears, and Kurogane didn’t know why he said it. It was like a Captain saying hello to his ship, or a soldier naming a favored weapon. Even so, he felt a smile on his lips and he reached forward with one hand, touching the fingers of his good hand between her eyes.

“I think she likes you, Kuro-sama.” Fai was standing back against the treeline at what Kurogane might have called a respectful distance if he hadn’t already known better. “When Mokona and I pass by she doesn’t even look up.”

“Programming.” Kurogane shrugged it off but his hand remained on the dragon, the steel skin feeling cold even through his gloves. “The guy who made these set me as her rider. They didn’t want the enemy capturing any of the steel dragons, so they were each programmed to fit their rider.”

“You don’t call her ‘it,’” Fai noted.

“I don’t call my sword ‘it’ either.” Kurogane glared back at him.

“Kuro-sama is attached to a lot of things then.” Fai’s smile was a thin line. “You’re not at all what I expected.”

“Expected?” Kurogane’s eyes narrowed and Fai waved his hands.

“From the letters. I thought the new warden would be ten feet tall with glowing eyes, a scary person!” It was a stupid enough lie that Kurogane couldn’t even bring himself to reply, turning back to look at Ginryuu instead. She’d lowered her head back into the snow but still seemed to be watching him, wings shifting, and there was a sharp screeching sound as the edges dug even deeper into the ground.

“Oi.” Kurogane glanced back at Fai, who looked up at him curiously. “Are there any other dragons here?”

“Not in one piece.” Fai took a slow step forward, dancing along the edges of the clearing with his hands behind his back, observing the dragon but not closing the distance between the beast and himself. His eyes seemed rusted over, and the smile had left his face. “I walked all around this area when I first arrived. I found pieces, from the dragons. Bodies as well. And pieces of ‘that,’ of course.”

“Fei Wang’s white phoenixes.” Kurogane’s missing arm throbbed and he eyed Fai suspiciously. “What were you doing here?”

“State secret.” Fai’s smile had no humor in it. “I was told there would be someone by, to pick out whatever looked dangerous and take it away. But no one could move her” — he pointed at Ginryuu — “and I was told that person would come for her as well. The person who brought me here had seen it in a dream, you know.” Another false laugh, hollow as the fake limbs. “So I waited. She shouldn’t have to wait alone until spring, don’t you think?”

“Sentiment.” Kurogane snorted. “I’m just here to finish the clean up. Leaving her here was my mess. I’m not going to sit back while someone else fixes that.”

“So responsible.” Fai clapped his hands. “She didn’t even move when I came near her. I wondered, when I arrived, if she could still fly.”

“We were shot out of the sky. What was left moving her wings got broken in the fall.” He could still see that too, the broken joints. It was amazing the dragon could still move this much.

“You shouldn’t take that for granted, Kuro-sama.” Fai stepped back, almost into the trees. “That you once could fly.”

“I didn’t ask for that. I was just doing my job, to take down the bastard who destroyed my country.”

“Your country…” Fai tiled his head. “I thought you didn’t look like you were from Outo, Kuro-rin.”

“Neither do you,” Kurogane said pointedly, and Fai just shrugged and smiled again. “My home was Suwa. It was the first place destroyed when Fei Wang defected and joined those bastards from Valeria.”

“Suwa…that was an eastern country, wasn’t it? Ringed by the mountains.” Fai said it thoughtfully, as if dragging up an old memory, and Kurogane looked at him sharply.

“How the hell did you know that?”

“I’m a traveler, Kuro-sama, that’s all.” Fai waved a hand, placating. “That place was a long way from Outo country.”

“I traveled with the refugee camps until I joined the army.” Kurogane took a step back, giving the dragon’s steel hide one last pat as he glanced sharply back at Fai. “What about you?”

Fai only smiled and ran a hand through his hair.

“Something similar, probably.” He leaned in a little closer to Ginryuu, curious. “She won’t last much longer, Kuro-rin. Did you come here to wake her?”

“Don’t be stupid.” Kurogane stared down at the dragon with lidded eyes, remembering again wind whistling in his ears and the sight of the ground far beneath flashing by, the rush of air and flight and then the abrupt crash to the ground. “The dragons were only made to last until the end of the Long Winter.”

“I see.” Fai was looking at the dragon too, and his false eyes were as unreadable as his smile. “You don’t have long, Kuro-sama. The sun will come out soon.”

“I know that.” Kurogane turned away then, not bothering to see if Fai followed.

“It’s a shame, don’t you think?” Fai’s voice was thoughtful, and there was the sound of light footfalls in snow as Fai caught up with and then overtook him. “Artificial soul really only is that in the end. Artificial.”

Kurogane’s arm throbbed and he found himself flexing his own false fingers, feeling the movement down to his bones even though he knew it was only metal attached to his shoulder now, no longer the warm flesh that had once been there.

Fai glanced back at him once, gold eye glowing slightly and a half smile on his face as if he could read Kurogane’s thoughts, and Kurogane pushed him aside.

“If you have time to worry about that you have time to make yourself useful. What else did you find left behind here?”

Fai stated at him blankly for a moment and then laughed, holding out a hand.

“Follow me then, Kuro-rin.”

“It’s _Kurogane._ ”

 


	3. Chapter 3

Ginryuu shifted in the snow, and Kurogane flexed his wrist to get some of the feeling back.

It had been two weeks now, since he’d come here. The days had already begun to blur together — the time between moonsets shorter and shorter apart, and it was too cold to be outside without either one in the sky. Kurogane had taken to making his rounds as soon as the first moon appeared in the sky, following trails that were more often than not barely visible with the darkness and snow. He’d found a few abandoned caches of weaponry and made sure they were unusable, and twice he’d spotted bone white shards of metal that could only have come from the white phoenix in its final hard descent. He’d taken care of those too, with Fai watching him from a distance.

Kurogane curled his lip. He’d thought perhaps he might have some peace and quiet up here in the middle of nowhere at least, but it was impossible to get anything like _peace_ with that idiot around. He’d sent a short irritated communication to Tomoyo about it, to vent his annoyance as much as to report that there was an unauthorized person hanging around. Tomoyo’s reply had been hard to parse, the communication beacon not being made for much more than straightforward sentences, but from what he understood Outo was well aware of Fai’s presence and they had simply neglected to tell him (which was very convenient, ad Kurogane was fairly certain that the end of Tomoyo’s message had conveyed something that was probably amused laughter at his expense).

Still, for all that Kurogane couldn’t deny that Fai had been useful. Who knew how long the idiot had been up here but he knew the trails better than Kurogane did, and he seemed to know most of the secrets that had been swallowed by time and snow — it had been Fai who had showed him the hidden weapon cache, and Fai who had spotted what had turned out to be a fragment of the white phoenix’s weapons system, which Kurogane had brought back to his cabin to disarm. If he could just find a way to remove Fai’s mouth and the idiot’s strange need to climb on top of any high things in the area Fai would have been almost an acceptable presence.

A presence, not a companion, and the metal hide underneath his hands shifted again.

There wasn’t any point in fixing Ginryuu, he knew that. The artificial soul in her eyes was already a little dimmer than it had been when he’d first seen her there in the snow, power slowly seeping out of her bit by bit. Soon even a completely restored body wouldn’t be enough for her to move more than bits and pieces, not without anything inside to power it. Still, it passed the time well enough and gave him something to focus on besides endless patrolling and Fai’s brainless chatter.

Fixing the joints in her legs hadn’t been hard, only time consuming. He’d purchased a mechanics’ kit before he’d left Piffle for the northern border, and Tomoyo had been able to procure him some tools that were normally only used by the army’s mechanic teams. It wasn’t the same as what had been used when the dragons had been created in the first place — those tools had long been destroyed by the time Kurogane was out of the hospital after the final mission, with the remaining dragons all being decommissioned — but it would do. Tomoyo’s family supplied tech for plenty of the army’s other machines, the ground troops and even some of the few remaining air transports, and all she had to do was make the request and it would be granted.

There wasn’t any point in fixing Ginryuu, he knew that. The artificial soul in her eyes was already a little dimmer than it had been two days ago, the life slowly seeping out of her bit by bit. Soon even a completely restored body wouldn’t be enough to move her body, not without anteing inside to control it. Even so, it passed the time well enough and gave him something to focus on besides endless patrolling.

“Kuro-kichi…are you ignoring me?” Endless patrolling, and Fai’s brainless chatter. The blond was sitting atop Ginryuu’s back, in the same place a rider would have been but with his legs dangling over her side and one hand braced against the nearest wing.

“I’m busy.” Not that it would matter to Fai, and Kurogane tightened another of the screws near her leg. Her tail waved, the only part of her that still seemed to move freely.

“I thought I would keep you company. It’s lonely out here, don’t you think?” Fai was rocking a little where he sat.

“Only a moron comes to a place like this for _company._ ”

“You were in the army though, right? With all your comrades.” Something in Fai’s tone made Kurogane think of a young child, asking questions to try and understand something beyond him. “Don’t those people miss you?”

“They’re dead.” Kurogane said the words with no emotion whatsoever, simply the stating of a fact.

“Someone misses you though, right?” Fai was looking up as he slid off the dragon’s back, not even seeming to care about the height, and even with his face turned upwards he still landed easily on his feet. “A person who is waiting for you.”

“What about you?” Kurogane parried the question back instead, and finally Fai met his gaze and smiled.

“You’re awfully skilled at fixing things, Kuro-tan.” Fai nodded at the joint Kurogane had just finished with, dancing backwards as if he could sidestep the question with his own two feet. Suddenly there was a creak of metal and Ginryuu’s tail moved, close enough that it nearly knocked Fai face first into the snow, and Kurogane couldn’t help but be mildly disappointed that Fai had dodged it.

“Next time I’ll let her take your head off,” Kurogane said in warning, adjusting his grip on the screwdriver as he moved to work at the broken joints of Ginryuu’s left wing.

“Honestly, no manners at all, Kuro-sama. And just when I thought we’d begun to understand each other too.” Fai idly wiped some of the snow off his heavy cloak. He hadn’t brought his staff today but the moons were bright enough to light the clearing without much need for a lamp. “Ginryuu-chan seems active today.”

“What the hell did you call her?” Kurogane gave a sharp twist with the screwdriver. Ginryuu flexed her wings, the one Kurogane had just fixed slowly moving off the ground to lie flat beside her, the tips no longer digging into the earth. There was still a deep scar in the ground there, and Kurogane turned to glance at Fai who was hovering behind him with a curious air.

“Did you name her, Kuro-sama? ‘Silver dragon.’ Unimaginative, huh?”

“It was the name of my father’s clan.” Kurogane’s voice was cold, and he could see his breath in the frozen air.

“I see…you’re unexpectedly sentimental.” Fai’s voice was flippant but his eyes seemed more false than usual, moving as if they couldn’t quite focus on Kurogane’s face.

“It wasn’t sentiment.” It had been a reminder instead, of what he’d lost and what he was fighting for.

“Of course not.” Fai’s smile was amused in a way that made Kurogane narrow his eyes, and Fai held up both hands palm up. “Don’t make such a scary face, Kuro-tan! We’re all friends here, right?”

“I don’t remember being friends with _you._ ” Kurogane turned his attention back on Ginryuu. “I came up here to do a job. Whatever you want to do, why you’re here, it has nothing to do with me.”

“That’s just as well by me.” Fai was looking at him with an expression that Kurogane couldn’t quite place, eyes hooded. “I don’t expect you to worry about me, Kuro-sama. This is the kind of place where a person has to rely on themselves, isn’t it?”

“That’s right. So go away.” One of Ginryuu’s legs shifted slightly and Kurogane pressed a hand against it, trying to adjust the stiffness there.

“You’re still fixing her though, right?” Fai leaned down to observe. “If you fix the parts that are broken she might even fly again.”

“She won’t fly.” Kurogane said it with certainty.

“You’re so sure?” Fai cocked his head. “It’s only a matter of adjustment. Machines are like that, Kuro-sama. There’s nothing broken that can’t be repaired or replaced. Different metal, new legs, new wings….adding a bit here and there until it’s all new again.” His voice was soft, almost lulling, like someone reciting a story they had memorized in a language they didn’t understand.

“It doesn’t matter how many parts you replace. _This_ won’t last.” He gestured to the dragon’s head, her red eyes glowing as her neck lowered back into the cold snow. “The dragons weren’t made with being sustainable in mind. When her artificial soul runs out she’s grounded. Her wings won’t move right if that’s not strong enough to bear her.”

“Artificial soul, huh?” Fai’s fingers ran along his elbow, the movement slow and with just the right stiffness to remind Kurogane that under that cloak was likely nothing but metal. Right leg, left arm, both eyes. Not that Kurogane was so different, or that it mattered. “Have you ever wondered why they call it that, Kuro-sama?”

“Some fancy idiots trying to play philosopher.” Kurogane snorted. “It’s a type of ore a scientist melted down and did shit to. It’s nothing real.”

“A mockery of something that should be true.” Fai’s smile was fixed and painted on. “It doesn’t make real life. Even if everything moves easily, once the soul goes away it just becomes another cold machine. I’m told it turns black when it burns out.”

“Someone told me that too.” Kurogane turned his gaze back to Fai, to the way the man stared up at the clouded sky through the snow-drenched treetops. “From the person who made _her._ ” He touched Ginryuu’s metal legs again and she shifted just slightly.

“That person knew a lot about machines, right?” Fai held one hand up, snow falling between his fingers. “I wonder what you would see beyond there, when it goes black.”

“Beyond?”

“It’s only an artificial soul. When that runs out, it’s just a void, don’t you think? Nothing but darkness all around. Not even stars, or snow. Not even cold.” Fai’s eyes were half closed and it was hard to see, with his face turned upward, if there was still a smile pasted there or not.

“Don’t be stupid.” Kurogane said at last. “It’s just fuel. When it burns out you get more if you can, or you find another machine to use. There’s nothing mysterious about that.”

“…Nothing at all.” Fai looked back at him then, and smiled brightly. “Really, you’re too practical Kuro-sama. Did you really fly on a dragon’s back to defeat an evil witch for the sake of the world?”

“It was a weapon, not a witch,” Kurogane grumbled. “And those were my orders. To take down the thing that killed my family and destroyed my country.” To at least get his own form of revenge, for the sake of what he’d failed to protect.

“Did it make you feel better?” Fai was rubbing at his arms again. “Just defeating one doesn’t change anything, right? A practical person would say that it won’t bring back the dead, the same as a funeral rite won’t be heard by ears that are buried under the ground.”

“I know that,” Kurogane said dismissively. “If someone takes away the thing I’ve sworn to protect, I’ll kill them. That’s all.”

“A very practical way of thinking. Really, you’re not what I expected the new warden to be at all.” Fai laughed quietly, shaking his head. “I suppose you’re not a person who would miss it after all. Flying.”

“That’s right.” Kurogane began packing up his supplies. The snow had started falling harder and he still had one last round to do, checking the traps he’d laid out in order to catch some meat for his dinner.

“ _Once people had wings,”_ and he wasn’t a child anymore, to live with sentiment.

There was the sound of Fai shifting his weight in the snow and Kurogane ignored him. The sounds faded away and he wondered if the idiot had finally figured out how to take a hint and leave.

And then something hard and cold hit him smack in the back of the head, and Kurogane dropped his pack back into the snow.

“What the hell was that, you bastard?” he snapped, head shooting up to give Fai a murderous glare.

“Hmm? I have no idea what you’re talking about, Kuro-tan.” Fai’s smile was radiating pure innocence, an image which was entirely ruined by the way his arms were already filled with snowballs.

“I’m not here to play kids’ games,” Kurogane said darkly, a warning, before reaching down to pick up his dropped pack.

Another snowball managed to hit him in the face this time, and Kurogane wiped the snow off his forehead as he looked up with an expression promising murder.

“You little rat…” Kurogane reached for his biosword.

“Now, now, Kuro-tan, don’t be hasty.” Despite the words Fai’s tone was still light and teasing, and he was tossing a snowball up and down as if it was just a normal child’s toy. Kurogane stood just as the snowball landed back in Fai’s palm and without even bothering to aim Fai threw it.

Kurogane drew his sword, slicing the snowball in half, which didn’t do much to stop the two that immediately followed it and smacked him right in the face.

“Nice aim, Kuro-rin.” Fai applauded helpfully and Kurogane could feel the irritation building up in his throat as cold snow trickled down his face.

“I’m going to cut those arms of yours right off.” Kurogane held out his sword and Fai gave another bell chime of laughter, tossing off another snowball as he darted into the trees. Kurogane managed to dodge this one and ran after him.

“Get back here, you bastard!”

Fai’s laughter rang through the forest, bouncing off the trees and another volley of snowballs were launched towards Kurogane even as Fai skipped through the snow in front of him. Kurogane followed at a somewhat slower pace, still unused to moving in the deep snow, his anger making it hard to avoid the logs and stones half-hidden in snow obstructing his path.

“Look out, Kuro-tan!” Another snowball came towards him but went wide, over his head.

“You missed, idiot—” The snowball smacked into the tree branch above his head and the snow that had piled up on the leaves fell down in a single lump, straight onto Kurogane’s head.

Fai applauded again, irritating laughter echoing off the trees as if the whole forest was laughing along with him, and Kurogane could feel snow sliding down his neck and into his cloak.

He reached down with both hands, taking as much snow as he could between them, and launched it all straight at Fai’s stupid smiling face.

Fai ducked easily, the snow passing straight over his head, and Kurogane sheathed his sword as he grabbed another hunk of snow that may or may not have also had a rock in there.

“That’s dangerous, Kuro-tan.” Fai clicked his tongue in a ‘tut-tut’ manner as he avoided the attack, the snow ball smacking uselessly against the tree to his left and making a dent in the trunk.” _This_ is how you make a snowball.” He reached over with his own false arm, gathering up a chunk of snow and rolling it even as he continued to easily avoid the hunks of snow that Kurogane was regularly throwing at him.

“Hold still you bastard!” Kurogane’s specialty had always been close combat but he had been trained in ranged fighting as well. Even with snow his aim was better than most people’s, and Fai was still avoiding all his shots as if Kurogane was trying to hit a hummingbird with an arrow.

“Like this, Kuro-tan!” Another snowball smacked him in the side of the head and Kurogane growled angrily, taking hold of the nearest chunk of snow and throwing it in Fai’s direction. Fai skipped to one side and this time Kurogane was ready, sending a second snowball in quick succession that just managed to graze the other man’s blond bangs. Fai gave him an encouraging smile. “You’re getting better at this, Kuro-sama.”

“I didn’t ask for praise from you.” Kurogane dodged another snowball as Fai turned and ran from him again, darting through the woods as nimbly as a deer. Kurogane ran after him, slowing every so often to scoop up more snow (and sticks, rocks, hopefully some animal dung) and launch it unsuccessfully at the blond’s stupid smiling face.

The forest suddenly opened up into clear sky and moonlight, the snow a soft blue and the dark form of Kurogane’s cabin in front of them. Fai made a whistling noise and threw another snowball, this one hitting Kurogane in the top of the head, and Kurogane knelt down with both hands again, packing his hands together to form the largest snowball he could carry.

“Where are you, you…” Kurogane looked back up and suddenly Fai’s silhouette was there dark against the half-set second moon, balanced on the edge of the Dragon’s Wing peak.

“That’s a big one, Kuro-sama.” He was perched on one leg, the fake one, and his hands were behind his back as he smiled. “I think your aim is improving.”

Kurogane could still feel irritation humming restlessly inside his soul and the snowball suddenly felt cold and heavy in his hands. An exasperated sigh echoed through his body and he let the snowball fall back to the ground.

“Get away from there.”

“Hmm? I’m just enjoying the view.” Fai’s head was angled up again, and the moonlight reflecting on his eyes made them look almost real. “This is the highest point in the northern region. Some people say this is the end of the world, you know? That there’s nothing at all over the edge.”

“Don’t be stupid.” Kurogane snorted. “It’s just a cliff. Stop standing there like an idiot if you don’t want to fall off.”

Fai laughed, and even that sounded like a lie — the sound from someone who had heard of laughter but wasn’t entirely certain how to do it.

“I thought we were having fun.”

“If I hit you with that you would have gone over the edge. I’m not running over there to save you.”

“I didn’t think you would.” Fai shifted slightly so that both feet were on the ground again, still right along the edge. “It’s a long way down, Kuro-sama. Just another void. Maybe we would find it down there? What happens to an artificial soul that runs dry.”

“I just told you to stop being stupid. There’s nothing down there but a chasm. You would smash against the rocks.” Kurogane crossed his arms but his body felt tense, cold wind stinging at his skin.

Fai closed his eyes, still halfway to the edge as one hand touched the collar at his neck.

“No sentiment, hmm?” Fai gave another hollow laugh, the kind that echoed off bad news given in a cold dark room, and moved away from the edge back towards where Kurogane stood.

“Hmmph. I don’t need to hear that from a moron who balances on a cliff edge, waiting to be knocked over by a snowball.”

“Right, right.” Fai waved a hand and grinned. “In any case, I’d say I won.” He wiped a bit of snow from Kurogane’s shoulder with one hand. “Don’t you think?”

Kurogane only grunted in reply, arms crossed, and Fai’s laugh in response was light and genuine.

“In any case, it’s getting darker. I’ll see you tomorrow, Kuro-sama!” Fai waved as he skipped past, heading back towards the trees.

“Don’t bother on my account.”

“Of course. You don’t need to worry about me.” Fai’s face was bathed in shadow, a half step outside the moonlight, and Kurogane couldn’t see if he was smiling.

—

There was a rabbit ahead of him, ears up and body tense, and Kurogane waited. It wasn’t far from his trap, and maybe this time he could finally catch his own food and not have to deal with Fai bringing him more sweet crap. He’d almost managed to get a deer earlier, only to have it sidestep his trap at the last minute.

There was the sound of a tree branch snapping off to one side and the rabbit darted off like a shot into the forest, leaping straight past the trap without even slowing down. Kurogane whirled, fully expecting to see Fai standing there behind him with a stupid grin on his face and a taunt on his lips.

“Dammit, you idiot, that was—” Kurogane cut off mid-curse, his body suddenly tensing. In the sudden silence he could feel a presence that was distinctly _not_ Fai’s, and his hand moved towards his sword as he took a step deeper into the woods.

Something moved between the trees. It was hard to tell, with one moon half set and the foliage growing thick in this part of the forest, but Kurogane’s keen eyes caught sight of it immediately despite it being no more than a moment’s fleeting shadow. He took another careful step forward and then paused, waiting to see if whatever was there had heard his approach. There was another blink of movement, just off to his right — something black, a shape he couldn’t quite make out but large enough that it could have been a human…or a human-shaped robot, which Fei Wang Reed had been known to use in his army. It was very possible that some of those soldiers had survived the final battle, and if any of them were still intact enough to move it was likely as well that any of Fei Wang’s generals who had escaped capture could make use of them once again.

There was the sudden sound of running footsteps and Kurogane sprinted forward. Whether he’d been seen or the intruder was simply increasing their pace was unknown. Either way, dealing with intruders was Kurogane’s job and he didn’t intend to fail at it. He wasn’t familiar with this part of the borderlands, slightly further east than he had traveled in his usual rounds, but even so he’d become adept already at moving in this kind of terrain. All those stupid snowball fights with the idiot were paying off, and Kurogane couldn’t help a feral smile at the thought. He was _never_ admitting such a thing to Fai at least, that was certain.

The thing in front of him was moving faster and Kurogane swore quietly. He needed to find a way to get ahead of it, ring it in somehow. He gathered his strength and made a dash through the trees, sword out —

—And promptly hit something large and furry before falling back into the snow.

“Kuro-puu?” Fai’s curious voice rang in his ears and Kurogane wiped the snow from his face as he sat up, irritation and embarrassment warming his face enough that he was surprised the snow around him hadn’t melted already. _Of course_ Fai would be here, and with the stupid robotic reindeer that had no living presence to sense. “You really should watch where you’re going.”

“I don’t want to hear that from you.” Kurogane stood and looked around, still on edge. Fai’s mouth was half open as if to give some teasing reply and then it closed sharply and his expression faded into seriousness.

“What is it?”

“There was something here.” Kurogane couldn’t feel the presence anymore and there was no sign of the black figure, but even so his body still felt keenly on edge.

“There’s a lot of wildlife this far north…” Fai’s tone was unexpectedly grave, suggesting even he didn’t think Kurogane had mistaken a deer or an elk for a more dangerous intruder.

“This one was shaped like a man.” Kurogane stepped past Fai without another word. A moment later he heard soft footfalls, Fai and Mokona following after, and Kurogane paused. “You stay here.”

“Now, now, Kuro-rin.” Fai waved a hand. “I thought I could help you.”

“How the hell could _you_ help _me_?” Kurogane eyed Fai plainly, making his disdain clear, and Fai gave him an exaggerated pout in return.

“He really is so _rude,_ isn’t he, Mokona?” Fai placed a hand on the deer’s back and then stepped forward again so that he was level with Kurogane. “I’m your guide, aren’t I? Follow me.”

“I don’t have time to be dragged around on some wild goose chase,” Kurogane said contemptuously.

“You’ve lost the trail though, right?” Fai glanced over at him and Kurogane looked away. He could almost _feel_ the triumphant smile in reply and quietly cursed to himself. “There’s a frozen lake this way. I’ve seen fragments of machines beneath the surface there. If someone wanted to come this far north they would probably be looking for any leftover technology, right? And that’s the best place to find it.”

“Fine. Show me.” Kurogane didn’t particularly like having to rely on Fai, but he’d already lost the trail and his options were, irritating as it was, far too limited to refuse.

“I thought you would say that. Follow me, Kuro-rin.” Fai began to walk, Mokona keeping pace at his side, and Kurogane followed.

“What were _you_ doing here anyway?” Kurogane eyed Fai suspiciously and Fai only laughed.

“The place where I live is nearby.” Fai glanced back at him, hands behind his back with Mokona walking steadily beside him. The reindeer’s metal antlers gleamed in the reflection from the moon. ““You’re keeping up much better now, huh, Kuro-sama? Maybe you’re getting used to it.”

“I need to be able to move in any terrain in case an enemy finds me.” Kurogane shrugged. “Snow or stone, it’s all the same way.”

“I see. Just like a soldier, to think that way.” Fai nodded. “Your footsteps are quiet.”

“Yours are too loud,” Kurogane shot back, even though he knew it was a lie. Fai’s footsteps barely made any sound at all, as if he wasn’t even walking in snow. “Especially when you have _that thing_ with you.” He gestured at Mokona, and if he hadn’t known better he could have sworn the thing looked offended.

“Shh, don’t listen to the mean Kuro-sama, Mokona.” Fai patted the reindeer’s nose. “You’re a good helper.”

“How the hell did something like that end up here anyway?” He’d been wondering ever since he’d seen the thing. Artificial animals weren’t anything new — most had been weaponized by Fei Wang, and then by the scientists in Outo in retaliation — but as far as he could tell Fai’s creature didn’t have any combat capabilities.

“Hmm…something of a gift, I suppose? To pass the time, and keep me company.” Fai laughed as if he’d just said something amusing, and Kurogane rolled his eyes. He’d learned already that expecting a straight answer from Fai in any situation was an exercise in futility, but he still found himself asking as though he was still in his regiment with straightforward comrades who actually answered things properly. “Ah, here we are.”

The tree line opened up to ring around a lake which had frozen over. The last few days had been warm, comparatively at least, and the ice looked thin and translucent in the moonlight.

“You bastard…you brought me here for nothing, didn’t you?” There wasn’t even any debris, not this far out, and Kurogane grit his teeth in annoyance as he turned to look at Fai.

“So little faith, Kuro-sama.” Fai walked to the water’s edge, and the light from the water was reflected deep in his eyes. “Look down.”

Kurogane stepped forward, nearly level with Fai, and stared down into the water. Fai shifted beside him, head down, eyes half closed as if in prayer.

Beneath the water was the crumbling skeleton of a metal dragon.

This one was in worse shape than Ginryuu by far. Much of the outer metal sheeting had been stripped away, whether by the landing or from previous damage it was impossible to tell. The eyes were nothing but hollow pools of black that seemed to drag everything around them into darkness, and without even realizing it Kurogane took a step closer to the edge of the water.

“Is it one if yours, Kuro-sama?” Fai’s quiet voice stopped him.

“Probably. My unit were the only flight troops in the northern lands.” Faces flashed through his mind, disappearing like smoke even as he tried to sort through them. The last he’d seen of Souma was in this direction, wasn’t it? The pool grew deeper farther in — far enough and deep enough that if ventured out he might be able to see it — the remains of the rest of the dragon, and of her rider.

Kurogane turned abruptly, walking away from the pool. Wasting time on sentiment like this was pointless. The dead were dead, and nothing he could do would bring that back. No artificial soul could could replace one that had already been snuffed out by war.

“Kuro-tan…?” There was a hand on his shoulder and Kurogane whirled without even thinking, his metal arm sweeping up to push the arm off even as he had to stop himself from knocking Fai off his feet.

“Go make yourself useful.” He shouldn’t have even bothered to come here as it was. Whatever or whoever he’d seen before they were clearly nowhere near here. Fai’s stupid reindeer had cost him his quarry and now he was going to have to report that he’d allowed an intruder to do who knew what in the northern lands.

“Was that a friend, Kuro-tan?” Fai’s voice was oddly subdued, and Kurogane’s fist clenched.

“What’s gone is gone. I don’t dwell on shit from the past when I still have a future to take care of.”

“Of course.” Fai smiled thinly and leaned his neck back, arms behind his head. “If that dragon still has artificial soul left you could use it for Ginryuu-chan, couldn’t you?”

“Useless.” Kurogane snorted. “Whatever’s down there, its soul is long gone. I’m not going somewhere I can’t see for an outcome that only a fool would cling to.”

“There may be nothing down there at all.” Fai’s head was still tilted back, looking up through the trees, and his smile was mechanical, stiff in its movements. “But it calls to you somehow, don’t you think? The feeling of wanting to see what’s behind the dark, even if you know there could be nothing at all beyond where the light fades.”

“I’m not interested in philosophical crap,” Kurogane stated. “My duty is to what’s still here, not what I can’t see.”

“Some people would call that short-sighted.” Fai looked at him out of artificial eyes, and Kurogane found himself wondering what exactly the world looked like, through eyes that weren’t really yours. He let the thought fly away, shaking his head.

“It’s called common sense. An idiot like you wouldn’t know what that means.” Even as he spoke Kurogane’s senses suddenly flared to life and he froze, tensing.

“Kuro—” Fai opened his mouth and Kurogane held up a hand to silence him. Almost immediately Fai’s expression seemed to settle, his eyes hooded and his voice low. Behind them Mokona slowed to a stop without even being instructed, footsteps fading into silence. “I think something Kuro-sama can’t see may be causing a problem.”

Kurogane shot him a quick glare in reply before taking a careful step forward, shifting his weight so that his steps made little sound as he moved through the snow. There was only the slightest of wind blowing and the forest had gone oddly quiet, enough that the only thing he could hear for a moment was Fai’s breathing behind him.

And then, another sound — feet crunching through the snow, moving fast past where they were standing. The gait was uneven, rushed, and Kurogane’s hand moved to the hilt of his sword.

_There._ Whoever he’d been tracking before had apparently decided to double back for whatever reason, and now that Kurogane could hear them he could place their position as well. The person was moving closer — definitely a person, he was sure now, not like the idiot and the reindeer at his back — and Kurogane couldn’t stop the grin spreading across his face. It had been far too long since he’d gotten to do something actually _useful_.

Fai blew out a quiet sigh of a breath and Kurogane shot a brief glance back.

“Stay there.” He didn’t need the idiot getting in the way and ending up injured. Kurogane didn’t even bother to look and see if his order had been obeyed, darting into the trees as quickly and quietly as he could manage. There were fresh tracks in the snow ahead of him, too small to be his own and too heavy to be Fai’s. Whoever the intruder was, they either didn’t realize Kurogane had been tracking them or had assumed they’d lost him and so hadn’t bothered to hide their tracks. It only made things easier, and Kurogane sped up his pace.

The snow began to fall heavier as he once more spotted a figure in black darting through the trees ahead of him. Kurogane began to weave his way through the foliage, making use of the natural cover as he moved closer until he’d overtaken the intruder, He carefully hid himself behind a large tree and drew his sword, waiting.

The man was dressed all in black, head and face hidden by a black cowl. On his cloak there was a symbol that stood out in stark red — a black bat on a red field, and Kurogane’s vision was covered by a haze of blood.

— _two weapons, with wings large enough to blot out the moons, white steel hung with black flags, and stamped along the great laser canons there was a symbol like a black bat—_

— _the symbol of the man who had created them, the scientist from Outo who had fled to Valeria to continue his experiments in military weaponry—_

_Fei Wang Reed’s symbol._

The man froze and Kurogane didn’t bother to wait any longer, jumping out from behind the tree with his sword drawn, the laser blade flashing red in the moonlight. The man in black just barely managed to duck under his swing, stumbling backwards in the snow, hands clutching a box-shaped item made all of pure white metal. Something blue glowed from inside and Kurogane realized what it was a moment too late: a fragment of one of the downed white phoenix’s cannons, that had been cut off and fallen to the forest floor somehow still intact, still able to charge and fire and he swore as he brought up his sword to defend from the attack—

And then something plowed into the man, white and black sinking into the snow as the blast flew wide, hitting the tree just to Kurogane’s left. Kurogane didn’t waste time hesitating, knocking the weapon out of the man’s hands with a single movement as the man in black was drawn up onto his knees, held in a tight headlock by a grinning Fai.

“I told you to stay put, idiot.” Kurogane kicked the weapon to the side, glaring as he leaned in towards the intruder.

“That’s…no way to talk…to the person who saved you, Kuro-tan.” Fai’s arms were still crossed over around the man’s neck and the intruder was squirming in his grip, hands clawing uselessly at Fai’s arms. Kurogane turned his sword around in a single easy movement and brought the hilt down on the man’s head. The intruder abruptly went limp in Fai’s grip and Fai gratefully let him fall to the ground, clapping his hands. “Cool, Kuro-sama!”

“Next time stay put when I tell you to.” Kurogane leaned down and picked up the weapon the man had been holding off the ground, turning it around in his hands. “So this is what he was after, huh?”

“A laser port.” Fai’s voice was unexpectedly serious as he looked down at the weapon.

“How’d you know that?” Kurogane glanced up at him sharply and Fai smiled guilelessly.

“State secret.” He shrugged. “You’re lucky he missed you, Kuro-rin. The blast is hot enough to burn a man’s face off.”

“Is that what happened to your eyes?” Kurogane didn’t bother to soften his tone and Fai didn’t so much as flinch. If anything he smiled wider, hands behind his back.

“Kuro-sama’s a soldier, right? You must have seen things like this.” Fai reached over, laying a hand flat against the smooth metal casing of the weapon. “They used bits of artificial soul to power the laser. It can still function, even removed from where it was originally attached.”

“It’s a pain,” Kurogane muttered, eying the intruder in disgust. “As long as the weapons still work you’ll have scum like this trying to steal it, even when the white phoenixes are dead.”

“I wonder where he found this,” Fai murmured thoughtfully. “It’s in good condition.”

“There must be more pieces around here.” Kurogane wasn’t particularly thrilled by the idea either. He’d already walked over most of the immediate area but the northern border was long, and he wasn’t looking forward to searching the entire damn stretch just to find more pieces of the thing he’d already helped destroy once. “Who knows how far this guy walked before we caught up to him.”

“Theoretically pieces could have fallen anywhere — Kuro-sama!” The switch from casual speech to urgent was so natural and easy that it took Kurogane a moment to catch it, his senses suddenly warning danger and he dropped the weapon in the snow as he reached for his sword.

Something flashed just past his face, thin and sharp, and there was a groan of pain from behind him. Kurogane whirled just in time to see the intruder falling back into the snow, having half gotten to his feet, a black laser pistol falling from limp hands. Sharp metal claws were embedded in the front of the man’s jacket, and a red stain was growing there.

“You…” Kurogane turned his gaze back on Fai. The blond was standing in the same spot as he’d been a moment before and though nothing about him had outwardly changed there was a sudden _feel_ of something alien about him, the false eyes that normally seemed to almost shine gone flat and artificial, mechanical. The nails of his right hand were extended forward, slicing through the black cloth of his gloves and silvery bright in the moonlight, piercing the intruder’s skin as easily as if it was made of leaves. Fai stood there still for a moment longer and his breathing seemed heavy, as if he was fighting with something before he jerked his hand back sharply and the claws retracted. Fai lowered his hand and Kurogane could just see moonlight reflecting off metal fingers around the torn glove.

“He’s not dead.” Fai’s voice didn’t shake but there was a hollow echo to it, something that bounced off metal walls and came back just a little more fake than before. “I didn’t hit anything vital. He had a weapon.”

“Why the hell do you have something like that attached to you?” Kurogane’s eyes narrowed, gaze sweeping over Fai’s figure as if just seeing him again for the first time. The same telltale signs of mechanical modification — the eyes, the leg and the arm and hand that he had thought were no different than his own — and the strange collar around his neck, which Fai had yet to remove even once.

Fai tilted his head and finally smiled, as if he’d come back to himself after taking a wide detour.

“In a dangerous place like this, self defense is important, right?” Fai said simply. “Kuro-sama has his weapon but I don’t have anything at all. ‘Only an idiot would come here unarmed,’ don’t you think?”

“Unarmed my ass.” Kurogane grabbed onto his wrist — the _human_ wrist — and Fai only smiled wider, barely resisting, every part of his stance suddenly loose and easy like an animal trying to show that it wasn’t a threat. It only made Kurogane more on alert, grip tightening, and Fai didn’t so much as flinch. “I know guys in the army who didn’t get that kind of modification. The human body can’t take it.”

“The human body can’t.” Fai’s voice was oddly resigned, _final,_ in a way that made Kurogane feel even more annoyed. “You shouldn’t manhandle the person who saved you so much, Kuro-rin. You’ll break my wrist and then I’ll need you to fix it.”

“Fix yourself.” Kurogane let go of him in disgust, stepping away back towards the fallen intruder. He turned the man over, the red bat stark and clear on the man’s chest, and tugged at the hood covering the face. He was aware of Fai moving back over to look, steps light as a fawn in spring, and Kurogane didn’t bother to look up at him.

Underneath the cowl was a man’s face, unremarkable save for the large black tattoo that covered the left side.

“One of Fei Wang Reed’s men.” Only the official members of Fei Wang’s sect had those kinds of tattoos. He should have expected one of them to show up here soon enough. He’d have to contact Tomoyo. This wasn’t the sort of person who could just be left behind at the provincial prison that the Last Village likely had. “This is _such_ a pain.”

“Was he only looking for this?” Fai wondered, picking up the weapon that Kurogane had abandoned in the snow.

“Probably.” Kurogane pulled his pack off his shoulder, looking for something to tie the man up with. “Fei Wang’s men are fanatics. Only idiots would come up to a place like this looking for the pieces of something that’s already dead.”

“Only idiots,” Fai agreed with an amused air. “So you know about this kind of thing too, huh, Kuro-sama? What was left behind when a white phoenix died.”

“I should. My unit were the guys who fought the phoenix of the northern border and took it to ground. That ‘great weapon’ died by my sword.”

( _“Please….take…” and somehow he couldn’t seem to remember, what that thing had looked like laid open in front of him, arms outstretched with its own heart in its hands.)_

“I know.” The words were final, the ringing of a funeral bell, but Fai was still smiling.

 


	4. Chapter 4

“All of you will burn, when we raise the white phoenixes once again! Once I have the golden soul in my hands—”

Kurogane grunted in reply and wished he’d brought something to cover his ears with. By now he was more than ready to burn if it kept him from having to listen to the rantings of someone who was an even bigger moron than Fai.

He had sent a communication to Tomoyo as soon as he’d gotten the intruder secured. Fai had offered to take the man off his hands, noting that otherwise they would have to drag the man further into the woods and let him see more of the northland than Kurogane would like. He’d been somewhat reluctant to give his prisoner over to the hands of an idiot but his decision had been more or less made for him when the intruder had awoken again and began ranting about ‘the golden soul of the phoenix.’ There was only one ‘golden soul’ Kurogane knew of, and it was currently secured in his cabin. Which only proved that it had been stupid to make him bring it along in the first place, and the next time Kurogane met that witch from the Outo war council he was going to tell her as much to her face.

 

In any case, he’d received an answer to his transmission quickly enough. As he’d suspected, the appearance of someone wearing Fei Wang’s symbol had given the bureaucracy of Outo enough pause that they were sending someone to collect the prisoner. He’d been thankful that have one thing off his hands at least, but the scarcity of transport vehicles that could navigate the borderlands’ terrain meant that he had to walk the prisoner himself to the Last Village. It had been well over an hour since Fai had handed the prisoner back over to Kurogane’s care and so far Kurogane’s only regret was that he hadn’t thought to bring anything that could be used as a _gag_.

“It’s a nice day for a walk, don’t you think, Kuro-sama?” Speaking of people who needed gags.

“I didn’t ask for an escort.” The words came out more sullen than annoyed, and Kurogane knew full well that he couldn’t complain much. He hadn’t been looking forward to dragging the recalcitrant prisoner several miles through the snow back to the Last Village, which was when Fai had offered use of his reindeer. Mokona had been receptive enough to Kurogane’s commands and was currently moving a step behind him at a steady pace, unfazed by the prisoner yelling stupidity on her back.

_Its back,_ Kurogane reminded himself, stubbornly. He wasn’t going to start calling this thing a _she,_ no matter how much Fai insisted on it.

“Don’t be mean, Kuro-rin. I thought it might be best to have two of us here, just in case.” Fai smiled, eyes cool and amused. “You were worried about it too, weren’t you? An ambush.” His gaze slid down to Kurogane’s sword at his waist, and Kurogane couldn’t stop a slight smile.

“I didn’t survive the war by being an idiot.” Kurogane shrugged, and Fai laughed.

“Repent, enemies of the true way! When the phoenixes rise and cleanse this land—”

“Shut up.” Kurogane urged Mokona forward, rolling his eyes at the man tied and bound to the reindeer’s back before glancing back at Fai. “With all the noise this idiot’s making it would be easy for anyone to find our location.”

“He doesn’t seem the type to have accomplices.” Fai eyed the man keenly. “Aren’t these the sort of people who want to be the first one to tell their master ‘I did it’?”

“What master?” Kurogane muttered. “Fei Wang Reed is dead. I saw that bastard’s body laid out in the center of Outo’s capital city myself.”

“Only a ruse!” The man on the reindeer’s back broke into their conversation again. “Our master will rise, along with his two weapons, and then—”

“Your great ‘weapons’ are just scrap metal.” Kurogane felt a spike of pain in his head and shook the feeling off, letting the memories already creeping up on him fall back into the snow.

“You said that before, didn’t you, Kuro-sama?” Fai murmured quietly, and Kurogane couldn’t make out the emotion in those artificial eyes. “You killed one, right?”

“My unit led the last siege in the northern territories. We took that thing down at the cost of lives.” He wouldn’t forget that either. Another thing that all his strength had failed to save. Even the dragon hadn’t been enough, in the end, and what he’d killed couldn’t hope to add up to the lives he’d lost to it.

— _And as for_ what _he’d killed—_

Another spike of pain, and Kurogane shook his head.

“That makes you a great hero, huh, Kuro-rin? Bringing a phoenix down from the sky and slaying it. So cool, Kuro-sama.”

“It wasn’t cool.” Kurogane snorted. “I told you. That thing took away something that was mine.”

“Anything that tries to take away what you want to protect, you’ll kill, right?” Fai’s smile was secretive, as fake as his eyes and harder to read. “Some people would think it odd, that a great war hero would be up here in the snow, in the furthest northern regions of the world. Aren’t heroic people supposed to live happily ever after once the story ends?”

“I don’t believe in that kind of crap. This isn’t a kid’s story.” Kurogane carefully stepped over a fallen tree trunk and tugged on the reindeer’s lead to guide it away from the obstacle. Mokona moved over the trunk almost as if wasn’t there and then bumped against him in a way that Kurogane would have called smug if he hadn’t known any better that it was just a machine. “My duty wasn’t done yet. That’s all.”

“Such an admirable devotion.” Fai skipped through the snow only a few steps behind. “You’re the sort of person who decides on something and follows it through to the end, aren’t you, Kuro-rin?”

Kurogane gave him a sidelong look, mouth open to reply, and then the idiot on the reindeer broke in.

“Both of you will die screaming if you don’t repent. Do you think the great weapons could be defeated so easily? The phoenixes born from flesh and machine, the artificial soul that shines beyond any—”

There was a heavy ‘thwack’ sound and then the man fell silent, going limp on the reindeer. Behind him Fai smiled innocently at Kurogane, his silver staff still half-raised.

“My hand slipped,” Fai said simply and Kurogane couldn’t stop a slight grin in reply. He’d been wanting to do that himself for _hours._

The trees were starting to thin out the further they walked and Kurogane could just see smoke on the horizon, accompanied by the smell of lit forges and fireplaces. Fai had slowed his pace slightly, two steps behind Kurogane with his hands behind his back.

“Say, Kuro-sama….what do you think about it? Everything that person said.” He gestured towards the slumped body on Mokona’s back.

“The weapons rising again?” Kurogane snorted derisively. “Fei Wang’s men are all fanatics. That guy’s dead, and good riddance.”

“You sound so sure of it.” Fai’s tone was unreadable, mechanical. “Surely a person like that could rise up again and again, even from the grave.”

“It’s hard to rise up when your head’s been separated from your body,” Kurogane said darkly. “I saw it myself. Fei Wang Reed is dead, along with his weapons. The Outo army took his notes and burned his lab. All that’s left is a bunch of debris and idiots like this who think they can still rule the world, because they can’t realize when they’ve lost.”

“Maybe you have something in common with them after all, Kuro-pon.” The words were teasing but there was a forced lightness to Fai’s tone, a weight masquerading as a cloud. “You’re not worried about his weapons either?”

“Even machines can be killed.” The memory on the edge of his mind, and Kurogane shoved it away. “That was my job.”

“Even machines, huh?” Fai laughed, false as his eyes and not nearly as well made. “I suppose you’ve seen it up close, then…the void, when artificial soul runs out.”

Kurogane shrugged in reply, keeping his attention on the ground in front of him. Fai seemed to accept that as an answer, smile a thin hard line and eyes that didn’t reflect even the moonlight off the snow.

They walked on in silence after that, the only sound the crunch of snow under their feet and the quiet ring of the bells around Mokona’s bridle. In the distance Kurogane could see a line of high shadows, the buildings of the Last Village rising up like a cloud over a mountain.

Fai’s feet behind him stopped, and Kurogane turned to look back at him.

“Have fun in the village, Kuro-puu!” Fai waved lightly, taking a dancing step backwards.

“You’re not coming?” Not that he _wanted_ Fai to come. Having some silence for once would be a relief.

“I wasn’t made for villages.” Fai seemed distracted, glancing up through the trees. “Besides, you have official business there, right? Don’t worry, I’ll wait for you right here.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that either,” Kurogane muttered, urging Mokona forward.

“You wound me, Kuro-rin.” Fai gave an exaggerated pout but stayed put, making no move to follow Kurogane as he’d half-expected the blond would despite his words. “Take care of Mokona for me, all right?”

Kurogane didn’t bother to reply, leading the reindeer down the last stretch of hill to where the snow gave way to a cobblestone street. The Last Village had at one point before the war been a bustling trade city, where hunters who spent their months in the northern borderlands came to trade skins and meat for gold and silver. The war had made its impact even here though, the town having been turned for a time into a makeshift barracks for the army. Even now, with the war over and the rest of the country slowly rebuilding there was little sign of what the city had once been. The buildings were old and crumbling, and most of the people kept their heads down and minded to their own business. It would be some time before traders would come this way again, even when spring finally came.

A few people glanced up at Kurogane as he went by, eyes drawn less to his prisoner and more to his mount. Mechanical creatures were rare here as well, with the rationing of artificial soul when the war began. Most of the machines Kurogane could see here were hand-powered, the artificial soul saved up more to move limbs such as Kurogane’s arm, with little to spare for luxuries like automatons.

That being the case, the vehicle in the center of the village seemed wholly out of place, and Kurogane grimaced when he saw it. It looked for all the world like an ancient carriage, the sort that would carry a queen or a king, but with great butterfly wings that shone with unnatural light on either side. It would fly short distances at low height, the best that could be managed with the strain of artificial soul that moved it — a special type that had been found in a mine owned by a certain family, and Kurogane swore under his breath. Of all the people who could have come to take his prisoner _that_ _woman_ was low on his list.

“Kurogane.” Ichihara Yuuko stood leaning against the side of her carriage, her black fur coat reaching to her ankles and a long pipe in one hand. She was watching him with a knowing smile that made him glare harder. “I see you are still doing well.”

“The hell are you doing here?” Kurogane pulled Mokona forward a little rougher than intended and the reindeer made a mechanical huffing noise as it dug its heels in and stayed put, half dragging Kurogane back. Kurogane overbalanced slightly and had to adjust, shooting the automaton a glare as Yuuko watched the whole thing with amused eyes.

“I was sent to retrieve your prisoner. You realize you were supposed to treat him lightly.” Yuuko smirked, like a parent who had caught her child in a lie, and Kurogane’s hands clenched. Yuuko barely spared a glance for the figure slumped on the reindeer, her eyes moving down to the automaton itself. “Oh? Have you stolen something?”

“I borrowed it.” Kurogane crossed his arms. “Just take that guy and go. I don’t have time for this.”

“The capital city has nearly been rebuilt.” Yuuko brought her pipe to her lips. “We’ve started work on the surrounding cities as well.”

“That has nothing to do with me.” Kurogane didn’t need to hear about rebuilding. There was a place he could never go back to, after all, regardless of what happened now. Suwa had been razed to the ground. It would be decades before plants could grow there again, before people could return. There was no point in hanging on to false hopes of things that would never be.

“Tomoyo asked me to bring you news, and you’re only being rude about it? After you manhandled a prisoner, stole an animal and caused a public panic in the town square, and I’m the only one here who can speak on your behalf.” Yuuko’s tone was light and amused while also being entirely serious, and Kurogane gave her a poisonous glare. Yuuko took another slow puff on her pipe. “Well, Kurogane? Have you found what you were searching for, here in the snow?”

“I’m not looking for anything,” Kurogane said shortly. “The northern border needed a warden. This is my mess, so I’ll clean it up.”

“That doesn’t make it your duty.” Yuuko’s eyes were unexpectedly dark, intent as if she was staring right through him. “Even if the memory you threw away resides here, is it truly what you came to retrieve?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Kurogane didn’t look at her, keeping his eyes on the prisoner as two of Yuuko’s men exited the carriage, bearing chains and handcuffs.

“Of course not.” Yuuko smiled mysteriously and then reached into her coat, pulling out a handful of papers. “Here. You may find it interesting.”

“What the hell is this?” Kurogane took the papers from her roughly, not even bothering to look them over.

“The last research notes of Fei Wang Reed. We discovered his last lab three weeks ago, in the catacombs beneath the city. I thought perhaps you might wish to read it, as the one who slew his weapon.”

“Why the hell would I want to read this?” Kurogane would be happy enough to see all of Fei Wang’s research _burned,_ to make sure no other damned fool tried to repeat it.

“The time may come that it will be valuable to you.” Yuuko held out a hand, directing her men as they took over Kurogane’s prisoner. The man was still out cold, and his head bumped against the ground in an almost satisfying way as they dragged him off. “Consider it a gift. You can repay me later when you get back.” Yuuko grinned again, still utterly serious, and Kurogane felt his eye twitching.

“Damn witch.” Kurogane stuffed the papers into his pack. “Fine. I’ve got work to finish up with here. You got what you came for, so leave.”

“Unfriendly as always,” Yuuko mused, blowing smoke from her pipe. “Spring will be here soon, Kurogane. Perhaps it will uncover something that you’ve been searching for.”

Kurogane didn’t answer, already turning away. Mokona nudged him lightly and Kurogane paused, glancing back at Yuuko.

“Oi. Witch.”

“Such a friendly nickname.” Yuuko looked back at him, black hair swaying in the winter breeze, and the snow that had begun to fall seemed as if it didn’t even touch her.

“Did you know about it? That guy?” Kurogane tugged on Mokona’s lead again. “The idiot who lives up in the north.”

“You mean Fai.” Yuuko’s eyes were hidden by her hat but her smile was curved in amusement. “We are aware of his presence. Please get along well, Kurogane. This may also be hitsuzen.”

She said it like a school teacher scolding a child for being unfriendly at recess, and then she turned and disappeared inside the carriage without another word.

Kurogane sighed heavily, half relieved that she had gone, and Mokona made a small noise that Kurogane could have sworn was a laugh if he didn’t know better.

“Shut up,” he said anyway, and led the reindeer back through the streets.

The snow had finally let up as he tied Mokona to a lamppost and headed inside a nearby shop. The bell above the door rang lightly with his entrance and the inside of the shop was warm and bright, the walls hung with ivy and holly berries, and there was a variety of mechanical contraptions strewn everywhere throughout the store.

“Just a moment!” A young voice called from one of the back rooms, slightly muffled, and Kurogane leaned against the wall and wiped the snow from his cloak. His mechanical arm felt stiff and he made a few slow circular motions, listening to the way the joints creaked.

“I’m sorry, I was adjusting — oh, Kurogane-san! Welcome.” A young boy stepped out of the back room, bowing quickly. He was wearing leather gloves and had a pair of mechanical spectacles perched on his head, with a wrench in his hand. “I didn’t think you’d be back so soon.”

“I had to make an unexpected trip. Did you get my order, kid?” Syaoran’s shop was the only place in the Last Village that stocked artificial soul, and Kurogane had made certain to request an order before he’d left the last time.

“Yes, it came in yesterday. Do you want me to look at your arm first?”

“Make it quick.” Kurogane removed his cloak, sitting down and rolling up his sleeves so that Syaoran could look at the arm. Syaoran pulled himself up on a chair and moved his spectacles down over his eyes, looking over the arm with an expression of keen interest. The kid was also the closest thing the Last Village had to an expert in mechanical limbs, and the arm was still enough of a nuisance that it was worth getting looked at.

“It’s really good craftsmanship,” Syaoran said, already engrossed. “Look at how well the joint’s made…and the container piece for the artificial soul hasn’t even gotten scratched yet.”

“Just tell me if it’s in good enough shape to work, kid,” Kurogane said shortly.

“Oh, right.” Syaoran smiled nervously. “I think you need to tighten the joints here and here. That’s why it’s creaking. Does it hurt?”

“Not enough to matter.” Kurogane shrugged and Syaoran frowned.

“Any pain matters,” he said quietly, face far too serious for a kid of his age, and Kurogane looked away with a grimace.

“I’m not interested in being scolded by a kid.”

“E-eh?” Syaoran waved a hand. “I-I wasn’t—but you should have someone look at it, Kurogane-san. If there’s pain it could mean the attachments haven’t been set properly, or—”

“Fine, fine.” Kurogane shrugged. “The next time I come back to town you can have a look at it. I don’t have time now.”

“All right.” Syaoran nodded, still looking over the arm with a professional eye. “I think you’ll need to refill the artificial soul soon or it will start to get stiff. There should be three containers in your order. I’ll go get it for you.”

Kurogane gave him a nod of thanks and Syaoran forced himself away from the arm, heading into the next room as Kurogane gave an experimental bend of his elbow. The arm felt cold somehow, phantom pain that should have been long gone still throbbing. He could feel the artificial soul right at the joint, hot and cold all at once, and for a moment Kurogane found himself thinking if Fai’s words — the ‘void’ when the artificial soul burned out, and part of him wanted to let that void suck in the elbow and all the rest of it too, let him forget it ever existed and have nothing there at all, the ghost of a limb that didn’t exist preferable to feeling his real arm and seeing the fake attached to his shoulder instead.

“Fai-san? It’s been so long since you stopped by — oh!” The bell above the door jangled wildly as a young girl in a fur-lined coat came rushing in, her cheeks red from the cold and her eyes bright. She spotted Kurogane and gave an awkward bow, half off balance from how quickly she’d run inside. “I’m sorry! I didn’t realize Syaoran-kun had a patient!”

“It’s fine.” Kurogane pulled down his sleeve, covering his arm again. “I was about to leave.”

“Oh…I still didn’t mean to interrupt.” She looked up at him with sincere worried eyes. “I saw Moko-chan outside, and…”

“That reindeer?” Kurogane’s gaze narrowed. “So that guy does come into this village sometimes.”

“You mean Fai-san?” The girl cocked her head, curious.

“Here, Kurogane-san…Lady Sakura?” Syaoran appeared in the doorway of the other room, a satchel tucked under his arm. His face seemed to flush slightly when he saw Sakura, who quickly looked down with a shy smile. Kurogane sighed and stood. He didn’t have time to be in the middle of a kid’s love affair right now.

“Syaoran-kun.” Sakura fidgeted. “We baked some fresh bread at the shop, and I thought you might want to come try some…I wasn’t going to interrupt you but I know you’re usually busy so—”

“N-no, it’s fine!” Syaoran waved a hand quickly, trying to reassure her. “I’m glad you came to see me.”

“O-oh.” Sakura looked away, very red, and Kurogane gave a slight sigh.

“Is that all of it?” He addressed the question to Syaoran, who jumped slightly as if he’d forgotten that Kurogane was there at all — which he probably had, judging by the way he kept staring furtively at Sakura.

“Yes, sorry!” Syaoran held out the satchel. “It should last you for several weeks at least, probably well into spring.”

“If it comes.” Kurogane had his doubts about that. Syaoran’s brows furrowed, mouth open as if he was about to say something, and Kurogane turned to look at Sakura instead. “Hey. You said that guy comes to this village, right? The one with the reindeer.”

“Fai-san? Yes…” Sakura nodded. “Only twice. He was a very kind person though. He helped me make the bread and let me ride on Moko-chan.”

 

“Fai-san arrived three months ago,” Syaoran added. “He said he would be living in the northern borderlands for a while, because he was waiting for someone. We thought he was supposed to be the warden of the north at first, but the man with him said it was something different.”

“What man?” Kurogane hadn’t heard anything about someone besides himself being sent to the borderlands. If Fai had been there three months it meant he would have shown up shortly after the end of the war, even before they’d gotten the capital building rebuilt. Kurogane himself would have been in hospital at that time, recovering from the wounds received when he took down the white phoenix of the north.

“He wore the badge of an Outo war general.” Syaoran and Sakura exchanged glances. “A tall man with long black hair.”

“He seemed like a very sad person,” Sakura said quietly. “He came in with Fai-san to my family’s store to buy supplies. Fai-san kept looking at everything as if he’d never seen bread before and the man watched him and smiled but…even though he smiled, it felt lonely. And Fai-san too, when he left the village…I saw him going into the forest by himself, and then that person turned around with an expression of pain before leaving.”

“Did you get a name?” Syaoran’s description had sounded familiar somehow, but Kurogane couldn’t place where. Outo had been through plenty of generals, and he didn’t know all of them by name.

“He didn’t give one, but I heard Fai-san say it once,” Syaoran said. “It sounded like ‘Ashura.’”

—

_What the hell was that guy doing all the way up here?_ Kurogane made his way to the outskirts of the village, pack over his shoulder. The supplies he’d gotten from Syaoran were tucked safely inside, along with Fei Wang’s notes which were just peeking out of the corner, thrown haphazardly in.

Kurogane had never met General Ashura but he knew the man by reputation, if nothing else. Like Kurogane, Ashura had taken down one of the white phoenixes, the one that stalked along the southern border. Unlike Kurogane, he had walked away without injury. Despite that, when the war had ended Ashura had also refused all summons to appear in the capitol city. He was considered something of a mysterious figure, and a capricious one. Who knew what that guy could have been doing here, escorting someone like Fai to the northern lands.

‘ _Waiting for someone,’ huh?_ Kurogane didn’t even look up at the sound of light footfalls in snow coming up beside him. Fai’s approach as always was almost soundless, but Kurogane had gotten skilled at picking it out amongst the other noises of the forest.

“Did you have a good trip, Kuro-sama?” Fai easily took Mokona’s lead from Kurogane’s hands, smiling blandly.

Kurogane shrugged in reply, straightening as he let Fai take hold of the reindeer.

“The prisoner’s gone, huh? I’ll be lonely now, Kuro-pin,” Fai teased and Kurogane still ignored him, hands in his pockets as he walked. Another snow had begin to fall and Fai held out a hand, letting the snowflakes flutter into his palm. “You should be careful. The closer it gets to spring the more dangerous the weather will be.”

“How would you know?” Kurogane muttered. “The Long Winter started before either of us was even born.”

“They’re called ‘books,’ Kuro-sama,” Fai said easily. “I studied a lot of things, you know. I wondered what it would look like…spring.”

“You’ll see soon enough. _If_ spring really comes.” It seemed like the end of the Long Winter had been predicted for as long as Kurogane could remember. “I’ll believe it when it happens.”

“Just like Kuro-pon, hmm? To believe in only what you can see.” Fai leaned over slightly to look at Kurogane’s pack, the notes still poking out of it. “It looks like you picked up some reading material as well, huh, Kuro-sama?”

“That’s none of your business either.” Kurogane snorted. “You didn’t want to come into the village, did you?”

“Hmm? You’re acting like I’m a suspicious person all over again. And here I thought we’d bonded a little.” Fai made a wounded face but his artificial eyes were glowing slightly and he was looking still at the notes. “Those aren’t light reading at all.”

“You are a suspicious person.” Kurogane ignored the last comment. “You’re waiting for someone here, right? That’s what you told them in the village when you got here.”

“I didn’t think you were so interested me you would ask around, Kuro-rin.” Fai’s words were light but there was a definite tension around his shoulders.

“Don’t give me that crap. Why did a general of the Outo army come all the way up to this shithole just to bring you here?” Kurogane said it bluntly, and Fai’s expression didn’t waver at all.

“Because I asked him to.” Fai’s smile was locked tight, unbreakable. “It’s really as simple as that, Kuro-tan. He offered to take me wherever I wanted to go, and this was the place.”

“Why?” Kurogane’s tone was blunt and direct, and still Fai feinted and avoided the blow of those words.

“I wanted to see the snow.” Fai shrugged. “It’s not anything important, Kuro-rin. You’re really making too big a deal out of it.”

“The kid said you were waiting for someone,” Kurogane said. “Who?”

“You.” Fai’s face was serious and set for a moment, eyes unmoving and his smile nothing at all like a smile, empty like a void. Kurogane stared back at him and then Fai shrugged, laughing. “Kidding, Kuro-sama, kidding! I’m waiting for spring, that’s all.”

“Suit yourself.” Kurogane turned away in disgust, weaving through the trees. As if he’d expected a straight answer anyway.

“Don’t stay up all night reading, Kuro-rin,” Fai passed him with a few easy skips, Mokona following behind. “You’ll get nightmares.”

He disappeared between the trees and was gone, leaving only the sound of Kurogane’s own footsteps echoing emptily in the cold air. Kurogane reached down and stuffed the notes lower into his pack, eyes narrowed.

‘Kidding’ Fai had said, but for the first time since Kurogane had met him it had almost felt like the other man was speaking the truth.

 


	5. Chapter 5

The snow was falling, and Kurogane knelt in the shade of Ginryuu’s wing.

The dragon was looking more mobile now, despite the still-fading light in her eyes. It wouldn’t be long now. He had a matter of days, not weeks. The snow had been falling harder as well — he’d already nearly gotten caught in one snow squall, in the middle of his usual rounds when the snow had begun blowing hard from seemingly nowhere. Fai had been there as well, standing resolute beside him with his silver staff, and had stared at Kurogane with eyes that seemed to see through him as he’d suggested they seek shelter before the snow became too thick to walk through. He’d walked by Kurogane’s side until they reached Kurogane’s cabin and then Fai had turned and disappeared into the snow, cloak swirling around him.

Kurogane hadn’t exactly been _worried_ — he wasn’t going to worry about idiots, that was for sure — but when Fai had shown up the next day sitting on Ginryuu’s back and swinging his legs, giving Kurogane a bright smile and a wave, Kurogane had perhaps felt slightly less like hitting him than usual.

Kurogane had been reading the notes Yuuko had given him too, not that any of it made a lick of sense to him. He wasn’t a damn scientist, formulas and dry discussions as to the chemical makeup of artificial soul meant nothing to him. There were small notes about various experiments written in the margins in flowing, hard to read script — comments about the link between artificial soul and aging, something about injecting it into human bodies. Kurogane had returned it to his pack in disgust after that. He didn’t know what kind of joy the witch was getting from making him read about a madman’s experiments but he didn’t see how anything could be gained from it on his end. The man was dead, and his weapons were dead. It was enough to let them both lie beneath the ground and not trouble that grave any further.

He heard the usual footsteps walking towards him, near soundless as always but at a pitch he’d learned to hear by now, and Kurogane didn’t look up as Fai moved alongside him.

“It’s cold out, Kuro-sama.” He didn’t have the lantern today, holding an _umbrella_ of all things instead, which Fai held out helpfully over Kurogane’s head. The words were light but there was something admonishing in the tone, like a parent scolding a child.

“I”m working.” He wasn’t, he hadn’t been for at least ten minutes because his hands were freezing even through the gloves, but Kurogane didn’t feel like giving any more reason than that.

“You fixed her two days ago.” Fai’s voice was soft, and when Kurogane glanced up at him the other man was staring up at the dragon with an almost wistful look. “She would probably be able to fly again, you know.”

“There’s not enough soul left for that.” Kurogane braced himself on his hands, trying to stand even though his knees had gone stiff.

“But you fixed her anyway.” It wasn’t a question, and Fai’s expression was oddly gentle. “That was unexpectedly sentimental, for someone who doesn’t believe that she’s real.”

“She’s not.” Kurogane ignored the irritating taste of a lie on his tongue. He hadn’t changed his mind about this. It was a machine, right? He didn’t intend to think of a machine as a living creature. “Machines can’t live.”

“They can’t die either. But you killed a white phoenix, didn’t you?” Fai gave him a smile that Kurogane couldn’t read, a riddle with no answer. “You said it yourself. That it died from your sword.”

( _He pulled open the metal frame, sword in hand, dripping blood, and inside was—)_

“It’s an expression, idiot.” Kurogane’s metal arm felt suddenly heavy, and he steadied himself against Ginryuu’s hide. Fai was still looking at him but his eyes weren’t quite focused and it made the stare unsettling in a way Kurogane couldn’t place and didn’t particularly like. “I’m not fool enough to get attached to something that won’t even last out the winter.”

“It’s a shame though, don’t you think? That she won’t see spring.” Fai closed his eyes, breathing in the cold air and then blowing out again, eyes opening and watching his breath curl white in front of his face. “When the soul runs out, and it’s nothing but a void.”

“Spring.” Kurogane snorted. “It isn’t like anyone remembers that anyway. You can’t program a machine with a thing you’ve never seen.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier for you to be a machine then, Kuro-rin? No need to doubt if it exists, if you won’t live to see it.” Fai blew out his breath again, reaching out his own artificial arm towards the puff that appeared in the air. “I read in a book that the sun is warm like a fire, and the plants turn deep green. There are new animals that may wake, beneath the snow. Everything becomes reborn. But a machine stays behind in the dark.”

“It sounds like a pain,” Kurogane stated and Fai laughed, wind through leaves.

“It would to you, wouldn’t it, Kuro-rin? So much greenery and fuss.” Fai’s face was turned from him, eyes hidden by his bangs, but there might have been a smile on his face. “It’s the same for me.”

“Weren’t you just the one going on about animals and shit?” Kurogane was watching Fai closely, eyes narrowed. Fai simply turned and gave a carefree smile, rubbing the back of his head.

“I might have allergies.” It was so clearly untrue that even calling it a ‘lie’ seemed unfitting somehow. Lies were expected to be believed, and Fai clearly had no intentions of trying to fake his way through the answer the way he did everything else. “You’re giving me a look that says you don’t believe me, Kuro-sama.”

“It has nothing to do with me.” Kurogane began to walk past him into the trees and Fai kept easily in step behind him.

“It doesn’t.” Fai used the umbrella to knock some snow down from a tree branch. “This isn’t the way back to your cabin.”

“I still have rounds to make.” Not that there was much point to it — he hadn’t seen any more intruders since the man he’d sent back with Yuuko, and most of the rubble left in the battlefield wasn’t dangerous enough to require immediate removal. He was just wasting time now, until spring came and the idiots in the council figured out a way to get up here and finish removing the last reminders of the battle that had won them their freedom. Walking the same path every day was useless and pointless, and his arm ached to hold a sword, to do something useful.

( _Small hands, thin wrists, holding the soul out to him, and Kurogane thought he might throw up. He hadn’t agreed to this, it wasn’t the war he had asked for, and yet—)_

“It will catch up to you soon.” Fai’s voice behind him nearly made him jump and Kurogane swallowed a curse. He’d been too lost in his own thoughts, if he was being surprised by someone who he’d known was right behind him, the same person who more often than not was constantly keeping up a flow of pointless chatter. Fai’s voice was heavy now though, like snow on a branch. “Whatever you came here to get away from.”

“I don’t run,” Kurogane said coldly, and Fai matched the tone in his smile.

“Someone told me once, that there had been no warden of the north since the war began. There’s not much left up here, not until spring comes. This far north, there’s only a creeping death that stalks you slowly and swallows you down. Standing on the edge of that void, you can’t help but be eaten by it.” He’d removed the glove on one hand, and Kurogane could see the fine metal joints of his fingers, far more advanced than his own arm. “Bodies still lie under the snow, everywhere. If you listen close enough, you’ll hear them screaming still. Is that what you’re standing on the edge of, Kuro-rin? The duty you never agreed to, but was handed down to you anyway.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Something was buzzing on the edges of his mind, threatening to swallow him whole, and Kurogane pushed it away. Fai’s eyes were nothing but cold metal, lifeless, and a shaft of moonlight glinted against the collar around his neck.

—And for a moment — just a moment — there was maybe the shadow of wings—

“Don’t mind me, Kuro-rin.” Fai smiled then, light and airy. “The cold’s gotten to my head, that’s all.”

“You—” Kurogane cut off sharply, all his senses suddenly on alert, and Fai froze immediately in response, umbrella held up slightly as if he intended to hit someone with it.

“How many?” Fai’s voice was soft and urgent, and he moved to stand at Kurogane’s back so soundlessly that even Kurogane, who was used to Fai’s gait by now, didn’t hear a thing.

“Four.” He could hear them up ahead, far too close for his liking — whoever was there they clearly weren’t used to moving in snow or using any kind of stealth. Kurogane quietly cursed himself for paying too much attention to Fai and not enough to his own surroundings, he should have sensed them long before this.

Except he still barely sensed anything, not the presence of living souls, even though he could hear their footsteps.

“Can we get around them?” Fai was already looking around for an escape route and Kurogane curled his lip.

“You go hide. I’ll take care of them.” His hand moved to rest on the hilt of his sword. The laser blade would be too easy to see in the dimming moonlight, he would have to wait until there was no other choice before he drew the sword.

“You shouldn’t hog all the fun, Kuro-rin.” Fai’s tone was airless but his eyes were serious, and he kept his position by Kurogane’s back. The nails of his artificial hands lengthened, pointed and sharp, and he held the umbrella still in his other hand.

“Just don’t get in my way,” Kurogane murmured and Fai gave him an innocent smile.

“I wouldn’t dream of ruining your fun, Kuro-sama. Just think of me as insurance.”

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Kurogane warned as he began to advance. There was a small clearing up ahead from what he could recall, and it would be better to fight in a space where he had room to maneuver. Fai seemed to know what his intentions were and with silent feet he ranged out wide, still within Kurogane’s line of vision but clearly intending to approach from a second direction. Between the two of them they could keep the four approaching intruders penned, and Kurogane couldn’t help a slightly feral grin. For an idiot Fai did have his moments. Occasionally.

The snowfall was beginning to make visibility difficult but even so Kurogane could see the four figures as they stepped into the clearing: each one dressed in stark black clothing, emblazoned with the image of a black bat on a red field.

_Idiot._ Of course more of them had shown up, There was something slightly different about these, the way they moved — stiff, in a way, and weighted down by more than the shining white piece of metal they held between them. It took Kurogane only a moment to recognize it: part of the white wing that had been left on the battlefield.

“It isn’t here either.” The voice was slightly tinny, as if speaking through some kind of filter.

“The soul must have survived somewhere.” It was definitely a different man speaking but the voice was just the same, utterly tuneless. “This is the only place we can find it.”

“In order to recreate his research, that soul is essential.” The third man’s voice was also the same. “We will bring this back to our country, and continue what was started.”

They were nearly in range, and Kurogane finally drew his sword.

“Wait.” The four men stopped dead and suddenly something flashed out from behind them, the first man’s body jerking awkwardly as Fai’s claws flashed out and punctured his side. Kurogane didn’t wait for the man’s comrades to realize they were under attack, slamming into one of the others and slicing the edge of the metal frame that they carried. The metal sheet fell heavily into the snow as the other three men backed up, not making even the smallest noise of surprise. Kurogane had only the briefest glimpse of glowing eyes beneath black cowls before one of the intruders attacked him, arms held out, and suddenly sharp claws to match Fai’s burst from each finger.

_Automatons._ That would explain why their voices had been the same, and why he hadn’t sensed their approach. He could tell now, how their movements weren’t messy enough to be human, the strange precision in each step. The voices had likely belonged to whoever was controlling them, almost certainly from far away. Fei Wang had several generals who had managed to escape the end of the war, and as far as Kurogane knew were still on the run. Hundreds of these same robotic soldiers had once fought on the northern battlefield, and not all of them had been destroyed. One of Fei Wang Reed’s escaped men, then, who had found that the connection to some of the soldiers was still working and made use of it. The technology had been created so that even if one of the machines was captured intact there was no way to trace back its line of connection to the person who had been operating it.

Which meant Kurogane could kill them as much as he wanted, and Kurogane smiled.

One of the automatons ran at him, claws out, and Kurogane parried easily with his sword. A second approached him from one side, clearly intending some kind of attack, but Kurogane had dealt with more dangerous weapons than these and stepped under the strike, sword in his human arm while his metal arm delivered a sharp punch to the automaton’s chest. The second automaton reeled, and Kurogane adjusted his grip on his sword again, slicing it nearly in half. The first automaton attempted another attack, nails just grazing Kurogane’s side and Kurogane grabbed onto the sharp claws with his metal arm, squeezing hard, and he could feel the thin fine metal twisting under his grasp. Kurogane yanked the machine forward, dragging it into range before plunging his sword straight between its eyes.

Kurogane let the automaton fall into the snow in a heap, turning to check on Fai. The automaton that Fai had attacked first was lying prone in the snow but the final one was looking up at him as if confused.

“But…this is…” And then Fai’s claws burst through its back and the machine gave a few stuttering steps before falling forward at Fai’s feet, the light in its eyes dimming to nothing.

“That was easy.” Fai tapped his umbrella against the machine’s head, tone light but his expression hidden by his bangs. “I didn’t expect machines.”

“Whoever’s been sending these things up here learned from the last time. No prisoners.” Kurogane knelt down beside the piece of wing, trying to wipe some of the snow off the metal. They’d likely pulled this part from one of the inner feathers, and Kurogane could almost make out letters stamped on the side, an F and part of what might have been a 1.

“It isn’t anything dangerous, Kuro-rin.” Fai’s umbrella planted itself neatly in his way, and Fai stared down at him with wide mismatched eyes. “Another squall is coming. You should head back.”

“As soon as I make sure the job is done. More of those things could be nearby.”

“Even if they are they won’t be on the move, not during a snowstorm.” Fai’s voice was too calm, too reasonable. “It’s…” He paused, looking up sharply. “Kuro-rin.”

“I told you—” Kurogane broke off, following the line of Fai’s gaze. One of the automatons that Kurogane had felled was moving again, half its body convulsing as if completely independent from the rest of it, head twisting wildly on its neck. Kurogane rose, sword out and prepared to sever the head from the rest of the body when suddenly half the black cloak fell away to reveal a pair of soulless metal eyes that glinted once and then appeared to melt into nothing, leaving behind two metal holes in a slate gray metal face.

Then the buzzing started.

“Kuro-sama.” Fai was grabbing at his shoulder, trying to urge him backward, but there was no time to so much as move a finger before a cloud of black rose out of the machine’s eye sockets. Kurogane didn’t even have a moment to figure out what he was staring at before the cloud descended over himself and Fai, only catching the briefest glimpse of a swarm of small robots with clicking limbs and buzzing wings that were suddenly everywhere, his face, his mouth, nose, eyes, all over his skin— his body suddenly overcome with the feeling of sharp pain, hundreds of tiny metal claws tearing at his clothes and his flesh, and Kurogane tried to cover his mouth with his metal arm as he reeled backwards.

They were all over him, tearing, stabbing, flying even out of reach of his sword. It was like being eaten alive by locusts, attacked by enemies too small and numerous to fight, and Kurogane found himself stumbling away in the snow, too slow and too clumsy, his sense of direction thrown off entirely and his eyes half shut. He could feel them settling on his mechanical arm, sharp legs and spines glancing against the metal and Kurogane kept his hand firmly over his mouth in order to keep breathing. Through the buzzing of the machines he could hear Fai’s strained voice.

“The lake, Kuro-sama, the lake—” Fai was reaching for him, hand over his and he was being dragged somewhere he couldn’t see. Fai was covered in the things as well, nothing but a blur of white and blond and yet even so he seemed fully aware of their location, half-dragging Kurogane through the trees. Kurogane could feel blood running down his arms, his clothes a mess of small cuts and the wind blowing against his face as the small creatures bit and tore.

And then he was being dragged into a bright light and a shock of cold — the frozen lake, the same one that housed the metal dragon in its depths. Fai was dragging him still, hand over his, and Kurogane felt the water at his chest. He barely had time to take a deep breath before his head went under, the pain in his body replaced by something duller and deathly cold, and even as he struggled to stay afloat with suddenly heavy limbs he could feel the locust-machines dropping off of him, one by one. Kurogane risked opening one eye, stung by the bitter cold of the frozen water, and through the haze he could see Fai flailing awkwardly, half curled up even as his hand remained tight on Kurogane’s wrist. Kurogane forced himself to pull his arm back, dragging Fai with him as he propelled himself towards the surface of the lake.

The cold air stung his face as Kurogane surfaced and took a deep breath, body feeling frozen to the fingertips but burning hot in his chest with every labored breath. Fai’s grip on him had started to go slack and this time Kurogane was the one holding onto Fai as he arrowed them both towards the shore. Every movement felt stiff, cold biting at the cuts that were all over his exposed skin, and pulling Fai onto the ground felt like hauling a weight.

“What the hell were those…?” His voice even sounded raw, breath strangled in his throat.

“Another type of weapon…experimental, they must have finished it since…” Fai shook his head and ran his hands through his hair, as if he’d said something he hadn’t meant to, and the smile he gave Kurogane was hollow and fixed like the grin of a skull. There were icicles forming in his hair. “The lake was all I could think of, to get them off.”

“So we can freeze to death out here instead.” Kurogane’s teeth were starting to chatter, the snowfall feeling like hundreds of small slaps against his skin.

“W-we need to get warm.” Fai’s voice was shaking too, but he managed to pull his thin frame straight as he tugged on Kurogane’s arm.

“My cabin is back that way.” Too far, especially if the snow kept up, and his whole body was shaking now.

“My shelter isn’t far. We can make it if we walk.” Fai was already walking and pulling Kurogane along. Through the tears in Fai’s clothes Kurogane could see the smooth metal of Fai’s arm, a hint of metal in his leg, and even though there was a tinge of blue on Fai’s lips he was still moving with sure determined steps.

Kurogane could feel the thin layer of ice forming over his skin, too cold now to even shiver, and even so he walked.

The forest around him seemed to have dulled to a blur, like a chalk drawing wiped away by the rain — Kurogane’s focus was entirely narrowed to the movement of his legs, the slow painful step by step and it felt like there was metal in his bones, heavy as iron that dragged in the snow, a weight like an anchor that settled over him the same as the cloak on his back. There was something buzzing in his head and in his veins, words in his ears, and it was almost as if he could hear them all again: his dragonrider unit, calling out positions on their last flight. The wind was rushing by his face again, sharp and stinging, he could feel his hands on Ginryuu’s back, and a shining white blaze in front of him, the place where he wanted to reach, too far, too far. Small black shadows darted around him on either side, his companions moving forward one by one into the white void that swallowed them up — falling like playthings, broken in two, down down down into the snow and swallowed up and his own body was so heavy he might as well have been pulled down too. It would be easier, after all, the insidious thoughts working their way through haze and his anger too had grown cold now, cold cold cold like a falling snow, like drowning under ice, fingers numb on the sword that didn’t save and only killed and there they were again, flying far away from him to shores he couldn’t reach, gray on gray and black on black, and somehow Kurogane couldn’t follow. His body felt too heavy to stay still on Ginryuu’s back but he couldn’t seem to fall, white above and white below and the last of the shadows that had been his comrades — that had been his friends, at the end of it all — everything was swallowed up by hungry clouds and cold, his body too heavy to fly any further, and even so he kept going forward towards nothing.

Then there was a spark, and Kurogane felt thin fingers on his skin and the smell of a fire burning down his throat.

“Where…?” He blinked, shook his head, and looked around, the stupor slowly easing. He could feel the cold again, the numbness that had replaced it fading, and his hand twitched. The room he was in looked nothing like a room at all — slapdash bits of metal and wood and who knew what else, as if someone had gathered up bits of debris and formed them into something like a house. There was a glimmering white piece of sheet metal in front of him bordering what appeared to be a fireplace, and a soft blue fire was glowing merrily in its depths. Kurogane’s own coat had been laid next to the fire, and there was a soft wool blanket with frayed edges close around his shoulders.

“Ah, Kuro-tan. Are you awake now?” Fai appeared from something that might have been a doorway, thin frame bending in order to get through. He held bandages in his arms but still wore his usual clothes, and the blue tinge had not quite faded from his lips.

“Where are we?” Kurogane started to stand and only shifted to a better position instead; the ceiling too low for him to do more than crouch.

“My shelter.” Fai knelt beside him, laying out bandages and what looked like some kind of salve. “We were just in time. You didn’t even seem to know who I was by the time we reached here. I thought I was going to have to warm you up with my body heat.” The tone was lightly teasing but there was a rueful edge to the line of Fai’s mouth, and Kurogane could still see scraps of metal clear through the rips in his clothes.

“What the hell kind of shelter is this?” Kurogane grumbled, glancing at the fire. It felt warm enough, but there was no smoke and no sign of kindling.

“Now, now, Kuro-sama. Aren’t you a guest?” Fai laughed softly. “I made do with what I could find. Don’t worry about the fire — it’s made by burning artificial soul. It won’t go out unless I let it, and there isn’t any smoke.”

“That stuff’s not supposed to be burned.” Even the more common blue soul was considered too much of a rarity to waste on something like a fire.

“It won’t hurt anything, and I needed to get you warm. You should really take off the rest of your wet things, Kuro-sama.” The seriousness had not left Fai's voice, and Kurogane eyed him sharply.

“You too.” There wasn’t a point in being shy now, and the clothes felt heavy still. Kurogane removed his shirt, checking on the joint where the metal arm met his skin as he laid the clothes aside and pulled the blanket back up. Fai was watching him silently, the blue fire reflecting eerily off his artificial eyes. “Oi. I’m not here to give you a show.”

“Of course not, Kuro-pi.” Fai laughed, and it sounded worse than his usual lies — this was something meant to be believed, and the lies weren’t. “Pants too, right?”

“You first.” He wasn’t shy but he didn’t intend to fucking _strip_ either.

“I’m fine, Kuro-rin, I’m fine! Don’t worry about me.” Fai waved a hand and Kurogane sighed heavily, grabbing his wrist.

“Take off the coat at least, idiot. You’ll freeze.” It was hard to move freely in the small space but still Kurogane did his best, trying to yank the wet garment off Fai’s shoulders. Fai froze for only a moment and then ducked his head, letting Kurogane take the coat off. There was a noticeable sigh of relief as Kurogane finished peeling it off of him and laid it down beside his own coat on the floor.

“The shirt too?” The ghost of a real smile hovered around Fai’s lips, unsure of what to do with itself, and Kurogane snorted.

“If you’re going to freeze to death do it on your own time. I’m not dealing with your dead body afterward.” Kurogane crossed his arms and he thought he could see something like amusement in Fai’s face before Fai ducked his head again, bangs hiding his expression and pulling his shirt over his head.

“Kuro-rin, you beast…leaving me to freeze like this.” Fai laughed, not quite so hollow, leaning back on his hands. With the shirt gone Kurogane could see it clearly now, the metal arm, which looked so much more advanced than his they might as well have been different limbs all together. There was more metal there too — small square patches along one side and over his chest, across the other shoulder, like bandages that had been stitched in. The collar seemed to dig slightly into the skin just below his neck, but Fai made no motion to remove it.

“You have more blankets, right?” Now that his eyes had gotten used to the low light Kurogane could see at least one hanging on the wall just behind where Fai sat.

“You don’t want to share with me, after tearing off my clothes with your bare hands? I thought you would respect me in the morning, Kuro-sama.” Fai gave a sigh of long suffering and Kurogane rolled his eyes. Fai smiled again and half-stood, turning and reaching for the blanket, and a flash of light from the fire caught against the skin of his back.

“…Where are those from?” Kurogane could see it clearly on Fai’s back — two large gashes just above each shoulder blade, the sickly white of old scars. Fai glanced back, fire burning in his eyes and smile a blade that parried the question a moment before it could land.

“Those? I suppose…that’s where my wings were cut off.” Fai let the words float away like smoke, no weight to them at all, and pulled the blanket over his shoulders to hide the scars from view as he moved to sit opposite Kurogane again. He picked up one of the bandages in one hand, holding them out. “Let me see your wounds, Kuro-sama.”

“I’m fine.” He shifted away and Fai caught his wrist anyway, making a tutting sound in his throat like a mother bird calling for her chicks.

“You’re still bleeding. You don’t want it to scar, right?” Fai’s metal fingers touched lightly against one of the marks, cold against the torn skin. Kurogane only shrugged.

“It doesn’t hurt and it won’t kill me, so there’s no point in fussing over it.” He’d had worse, and probably would again. Such small scars were nothing.

“Then you won’t complain if I bandage it either.” Fai had already begun to wrap the bandages and Kurogane let him with a sigh, making it clear by his body language that he found the whole thing useless. The fire was making him feel warmer, and the blanket hung loosely off his shoulders. Fai glanced at him once, almost furtively, and then looked back down at Kurogane’s arm. “You should be careful, Kuro-rin. You don’t want to lose another arm, do you?”

“I’ve had worse than this.” Kurogane eyed him sharply. “You too. I’ve never seen metal put into the skin that way.”

“It was a very bad injury.” Fai’s smile didn’t waver, matching the sharpness in Kurogane’s eyes with its own lethal edge. “I’m afraid there’s not a lot of me left anymore, Kuro-sama.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I told you before, right? ‘Cunningly disguised as human.’” Fai laughed, utterly hollow, and it echoed off the walls. The fire reflected on Fai’s eyes and hair and it gave him an almost otherworldly look, like something that didn’t belong in this small space covered by an old blanket. “There was a lot of damage done. This is the only way humans know how to fix it. In the end, I didn’t die, so I couldn’t complain.”

“Not ‘didn’t die.’” Kurogane’s own hand grabbed onto Fai’s wrist, stopping him from where he was applying the bandage. “ ‘Wouldn’t die.’ When I lost my arm I had worse injuries than this. But no way in hell was I going to die just like that.”

“A very human reaction. But I’m only in disguise, so I can’t think the same way.” Fai slipped out of Kurogane’s grip easily, bringing a metal hand up to his lips. “I’m afraid we can’t reach an understanding after all, huh, Kuro-rin?”

“I don’t bother trying to understand idiots.” Kurogane snorted. “Whatever’s been done to you has nothing to do with me.”

“Doesn’t it?” Fai seemed to be speaking only to himself, and one hand rested unconsciously against the collar around his neck.

“Ashura.” Kurogane let the name come to his lips easily, and somehow didn’t feel as satisfied as he’d expected when Fai’s whole body tensed noticeably, as if holding himself back from jumping. “That’s who brought you up here, right? The general. Did he give you those too?” Kurogane gestured at the mechanical limbs and Fai seemed to settle himself, another bland smile painted on his face. His skin still seemed sickly pale in the light, and it was impossible to tell if he was still shivering.

“He said I could do whatever I wished.” Fai shrugged, setting the bandages down in defeat.

“And you came up here to this hellhole.” Kurogane snorted again, and reached for the bandages himself. Fai gave him a curious look, head tilted to one side like a bird, and Kurogane reached for his wrist again. “You’re bleeding too.”

“Ah…” Fai looked at his own arm as if it belonged to someone else. “This was where I wanted to be. He gave me Mokona as a gift and showed me where to go, and I stayed here.”

“Because you were waiting for someone.” Kurogane began to bandage Fai’s own wounds, feeling an odd sense of familiarity come over him — how long had it been, since he’d been in a battlefield, bandaging a comrades wounds? Not that Fai was a _comrade_ — the hell if he’d consider this idiot that — but it felt similar somehow, and he could feel the chill of Fai’s skin against his. They were both too cold still, fingers awakening from numbness and brain only having just righted itself from sleep. Fai’s eyes were half closed and this close they looked even more false than usual, one too blue and the other too gold, and even the soft flutter of Fai’s eyelashes wasn’t quite right, not the rhythm of someone who did it by memory rather than mechanical impulse. Still, the rise and fall of his chest was a human cadence, and there was nothing mechanical in his voice when he replied.

“I’m waiting for spring. Isn’t that enough?”

“That’s something. Not someone.” Kurogane kept the bandage loose, and red blood showed blurry through the white gauze.

“I might have misspoken then. But I am waiting, Kuro-rin. It won’t be long now.” He put a hand to the collar again.

“Ashura put that on you?” He’d been wondering that too, and Kurogane said it bluntly, no need to dance around such things.

“No.” Fai offered no further explanation and Kurogane didn’t ask, bandaging another cut. There were older scars on Fai’s arm, the same white as the ones on his back, circular like the marks left behind by needles. Kurogane felt Fai shift slightly beside him and breathe out low, and he finished binding the wounds.

The wind outside howled and the whole room seemed to shudder slightly. The fire flickered but didn’t go out.

“Oi.” Kurogane pressed a hand against the wall. “Is this place safe?”

“Don’t worry, Kuro-sama. The walls are stronger than they look. The snowstorm can’t pull it down.” Fai pulled his arms from Kurogane’s grip again, wrapping them around himself.

“Where’s that reindeer-thing of yours?” He’d been wondering that too, particularly with the sounds of a snowstorm growing louder around them.

“Mokona? Outside. Don’t worry, Kuro-sama. Mokona can withstand a snowstorm twice as bad as this.” Fai’s smile curled up at the edges, amused. “Did you get attached? Mokona will be so happy you’ve returned her feelings, Kuro-rin!”

“Who the hell is getting attached?” Kurogane snapped. “I just wanted to be sure I’m not going to be expected to dig your stupid machine out from under a snowdrift once this passes.”

“So thoughtful.” Lightly teasing, and Fai’s voice seemed to have regained its usual music. “The spring’s warming your heart already, Kuro-sama.”

“What spring?” Kurogane said dryly. There wasn’t much sign of spring now, huddled by a fire with the snow raging outside.

“Soon, Kuro-rin.” Fai stared up at the ceiling. “Say, Kuro-sama…have you ever seen the sun?”

“Of course not, idiot. How old do I look?” The last spring had been when his mother was a girl. He’d seen pictures, in books and paintings, and heard descriptions in his mother’s stories.

“Right, Kuro-sama’s just a young puppy.” Fai chuckled. “Me neither. Once I thought if you could fly high enough on a moonless night there might be something there. I would reach up higher and higher, looking for something I could grasp, an energy that no one else could see. But it was still more of a void. That’s all there is, when you get that high in the air. Endless space, and so I came back down.” He paused and shook his head, rueful. “Don’t mind me, Kuro-rin. I think the cold has gotten to me.”

“The stupidity has gotten to you.” Despite his words Kurogane sighed and grabbed Fai’s arm again, pulling him closer so that they sat side by side.

“Kuro-sama…?” Fai looked at him blankly and Kurogane focused on adjusting the blanket.

“I told you, I’m not dealing with your body if you freeze to death here,” Kurogane grumbled, and Fai stared at him for a long moment before a strange smile settled over his lips — part rueful, part apologetic, and something like the smile of a mourner at a funeral as he leaned back and let himself rest against Kurogane’s shoulder.

“I can’t die yet.” It sounded like a broken laugh, and Kurogane didn’t bother to correct him again. Fai seemed to know that he wanted to though, and laughed again. “I’ll explain soon, Kuro-rin. The sun’s going to come out any day now, after all.”

He settled into silence then and Kurogane found his own eyes closing, his body suddenly warmer than he’d realized, and the sound of snow against metal walls ringing in his ears. The fire was still burning steadily and the flames seemed to reach out like ghostly fingers, restoring feeling to frozen limbs and numb skin.

Kurogane heard Fai’s breathing steady out beside him and he finally let his own body relax, and drifted off to sleep.

 


	6. [Interlude - From the Notes of Fei Wang Reed

_xx. 01 xx_   
_Two of the three women have miscarried. Despite this, I have hope for the success of the experiment. The third is progressing well. Have added a new schedule of injections, once every twelve hours up from twenty four. The last test indicated two children, male, still healthy. They are growing at an abnormal rate but there are no deformities._   
_The mother has named them. I have made plans for her disposal._

_xx 87 xx_   
_F-1 and Y-1 are growing at a rapid rate. Both remain healthy. The elder was taken in for surgery yesterday, to test his compatibility with the machine. The initial reaction was violent, vitals up and heart rate as well. Once the screaming stopped he seemed to settle down. It reacted well to his touch. Both should be suitable for eventual connection to the phoenix frame. The soul is stronger than I had expected, but it is compatible with the blue variety. I have added traces of rare type soul to F-1’s dietary plan, to see how the results fare._

_xx 203 xx_   
_The first test was successful. The frame has fully aligned to Y-1’s body. He cannot exist outside of it. The injection process via IV has already proved effective in early tests on less suitable specimens. Stunted growth as long as it is injected continuously in the veins. It is likely this may cause the core to burn out early, so the timetable for the plan should be moved up, two weeks._

_xx 321 xx_   
_They ask too many questions. I have separated the specimens for now, for reasons of military precision and their own usefulness. Y-1 will be returned to the lab, for further experimentation until he learns his place._

_xx 451 xx_   
_Fools — this is — If they bring down my weapons I will only make — more perfect this time, and no more questions — I should have destroyed them when they named themselves —_   
_(The rest is illegible, and burned.)_


	7. Chapter 7

When Kurogane awoke, it was from a sleep without dreaming.

It had been four days, since he’d sheltered at Fai’s pitiful excuse for a house. In the days since, the snowfall had grown heavier and more dangerous — Fai only stopped by once a day now, in the morning, bringing along the usual meat that he’d caught and dropping it at Kurogane’s door. He’d come inside once and the words they’d exchanged had been short, Fai’s smile thin and fraying as if something in him was beginning to come undone. He would look at Fei Wang’s notes that Kurogane had left on the table and at the strange golden soul still siting beside them and then he would say something frivolous and give a smile he didn’t mean, and leave without a word.

Twice in the past four days Kurogane had been able to venture out between snowstorms, and both of those times he’d run across more of Fei Wang’s men. They had all been the automatons again, and the first two had been found frozen solid and unmoving not far from where Ginryuu lay. Even the cold was becoming too much for the damn things, it looked like.

It was supposed to be spring soon. Kurogane snorted, stretching as he rose. _Spring._ He was likely to be snowed in at this rate for at least a few days, and still something in him kept insisting that it would be spring any day now.

His fingers brushed against the pages of Fei Wang’s notes. He hadn’t gotten much farther in the last few days, and he didn’t see the point in reading more. He’d already known Fei Wang Reed was a madman, what else was there to discover? He wasn’t even certain how all the damn things related to the white phoenixes, and what he was supposed to do even if he could find a connection — burn the things so no one else could repeat the experiment? Give them to Fai, to add wallpaper to the wreck he called a shelter?

Something about thinking of Fai made his eyes move almost instinctively towards the golden soul that always sat on the mantle, still burning bright with no sign of ceasing.

The soul which _was not there,_ and Kurogane immediately startled into full wakefulness as he reached for his coat and his sword.

The snow had only just stopped falling, fresh outside his door. Kurogane’s mind was already whirling with who could have taken the thing, how they could have gotten in without him waking, how far they could have gotten. He stopped dead in the doorway, visions of Fei Wang’s automatons ceasing as he got a look at the tracks that had been made in the snow.

Very light, and only a bit smaller than his. And next to each one, the unmistakable pattern of four reindeer hooves and a silver staff.

_What the hell is that idiot thinking?_ He didn’t put away his sword, only pulled his coat the rest of the way on and immediately set out after the tracks, cursing himself. He’d known Fai was suspicious from the start. Was this what the blond had been seeking from the beginning, then? Visions of Fei Wang’s spies danced in his head and were rejected. If Fai had intended to give the things to Fei Wang’s men there would have been no reason to help him twice against agents whose goals would have been the same as his own. And he _had_ been brought up here by General Ashura — even if Fai’s lies were generally not made to be believed he still had the testimony of the kids back at the Last Village, neither of whom seemed particularly suited for lying.

Which still left the matter of what Fai intended to do with the rarest artificial soul in the world, and Kurogane didn’t even have any further time to consider it when something large and heavy landed in front of him, nearly sweeping him off his feet by the force of its wings.

Ginryuu stood in front of him, nostrils steaming and great tail lashing, her wings half spread, and her eyes glowing _gold._

“What the hell…” Kurogane took a step towards her and then a familiar face beamed at him from the dragon’s back, a hand outstretched.

“Good morning, Kurogane. I thought we could go for a quick flight.”

“What are you doing, you idiot?” Kurogane felt a spike of something deeper than annoyance, and still Fai smiled in the face of his firestorm.

“The sky’s going to clear soon. This is the best time of day for flying.” Fai’s voice was calm, too calm, and Kurogane couldn’t see his eyes.

“You know where that artificial soul came from.” He wasn’t stupid enough to ask it as a question, and Fai’s smile only widened.

“I know. This seemed as good a use as any, right, Kurogane?” The second usage of his full name made Kurogane’s eyes narrow. He wasn’t fool enough to assume Fai had finally decided to listen to him and drop all the stupid nicknames, but Fai’s face as usual refused to offer up any secrets at all. Kurogane sighed finally, and stepped forward.

“Fine. But you’re going to answer my questions as soon as we’re back on the ground.”

“Of course.” Fai moved to the side, letting Kurogane pull himself onto the dragon’s back. Ginryuu shifted, eyes glowing, and despite what he knew was now inside of her — a golden soul that belonged to a weapon and nothing more — it still felt achingly _familiar_. Kurogane knew this view, from a dragon’s back, and for a moment he could see the frozen silhouettes of his long lost comrades, waiting beside him for the order to fly.

Then he blinked and the vision was gone, and only Fai was there beside him, artificial eyes half closed and snowflakes in his hair. There was something knowing in his look that made Kurogane feel a spike of annoyance, and he urged Ginryuu forward with only a touch of his hands — the move too practiced still, not forgotten yet even though he’d spent so long on the ground drowning in snow.

Ginryuu’s wings spread wide and then they were rising into the air, tree branches snapping and wind and snow swirling around them like a small hurricane. Kurogane heard Fai’s breath catch softly, almost imperceptibly, but he didn’t turn his face to look, focused instead on the cadence of Ginryuu’s wings as she ascended higher into the clouds. The dragon’s form was slightly rougher than it had been back in the old days, all the gears and joints that Kurogane had not quite perfectly repaired taking their toll. Even so Kurogane found a grin winding itself across his face as he urged her forward and the dragon wheeled around, wind whipping by his face cold and stinging but invigorating too, nothing below but white snow and nothing above but a dark sky dappled with stars.

Beside him Fai seemed to waver, staring far over the edge of the dragon’s back, and Kurogane reached out a hand and grabbed his shoulder. Fai started as if waking from a dream, staring at him with an expression that seemed for a moment to be almost _lost_ before the thin smile stitched its way back over his face.

“We want to go this way.” Fai pointed towards a jutting outcropping of rock and Kurogane guided Ginryuu in that direction, her wings stuttering just slightly and her body bent to one side. Kurogane easily adjusted his form, balanced perfectly on her back, but once again Fai seemed to almost be drawn to the ground, staring down with a fixed expression. Even so he remained somehow in his spot just behind Kurogane, head raised just so and eyes closed, letting the wind lash against his face.

The sky was wide and dark, empty, and somewhere off against the line of the horizon it looked like the building of a burning fire. The moon’s light was fading, and suddenly Kurogane found himself thinking of spring.

Then Ginryuu wheeled downwards, claws outstretched and slamming hard into the earth as they landed on the cliff’s edge. The area was sparse, even the snow cover thinned out, and the few trees that dotted the area were cracked and broken, bodies bent in two as if cut. Ginryuu had barely stilled before Fai was already jumping off her back, landing oddly in his haste and rolling to his feet, artificial eyes glancing back towards the horizon as he walked forward.

“Wait a minute.” Kurogane dismounted himself and Ginryuu bobbed her head, watching him as he landed. Fai didn’t even look back, and Kurogane cursed quietly and followed.

“I haven’t got a minute, Kurogane.” Fai’s voice floated back to him, breathless. Kurogane found his own steps slowing, something brushing against the edges of his mind. They weren’t terribly far from where they’d started and yet it felt as if he hadn’t seen this area of the borderlands before — or perhaps he had, in a dream, in another life, stumbling up a hill while a blood moon stared down at him like a great red eye —

Kurogane stopped dead. In front of him Fai’s footsteps slowed and he turned, a rueful smile painted harshly onto his face. The snowfall was light here, and through the thin covering of white Kurogane could finally make it out, bits and pieces of machinery strewn all around them, and right ahead of him, exactly where Fai stood, a great impression in the earth as if something large and heavy had landed there.

He knew this place.

This was the place where he’d cut open the fallen white phoenix, and plunged his sword into its heart.

“Do you remember, Kurogane?” Fai’s voice was full of rough edges not quite sanded smooth, but it wasn’t cruel either. “This place.”

“How the hell did you know about this?” Kurogane heard his voice asking the words even as his own mind was already putting together the pieces. Fei Wang’s notes, dense as they were. Letters half visible on pieces of white metal plundered from a destroyed weapon. General Ashura, famous for the same exploit that had led Kurogane here in the first place.

“It seemed like a fitting spot. But really, Kurogane…you’re not at all what I expected. I thought I would hate you, and it would make things easy. It was so fun, I almost forgot my place. But there’s really only a void in the end, and some things you can’t escape. Right?” As Fai spoke one gloved hand reached up, touching a spot just under the collar he wore around his neck. There was a soft clicking sound, loud as thunder in the silence around them, and the collar fell to the ground.

There, set just along the curve of Fai’s throat like a mockery of a necklace, was a pure gold artificial soul.

And Kurogane _remembered._

_One hand was mangled, bleeding and broken and yet even so Kurogane managed to pry open the shattered frame of the fallen white phoenix._

_It lay splayed out on the ground where it had fallen after that last, desperate attack. The pure white frame, so stark, so dangerous, now caked in scorch marks, gashes in the metal from dragon claws. It lay on the ground like a giant fallen star, unmoving, its resources spent at last._

_Kurogane’s own strength was failing — he would likely be joining his comrades soon, and somehow the thought made him smile viciously, blood against his lips. He hadn’t died yet, that was all that mattered. He couldn’t die, not until he avenged all of his fallen, all that he’d failed to protect: his mother, his country, his comrades. His one good hand closed over the hilt of his biosword, drawing the weapon as the cavity that held the weapon’s heart finally broke in pieces in front of him._

_Bloodied hands held out a shining golden orb to him, and Kurogane felt wind rushing in on him from all sides as he saw what lay at the center of the white phoenix._

_A_ child.

_All that he had done up to this point, all that he had lost…it was all for the sake of this moment. And here, at the end of it all, the truth of his mission._

_He had been sent here to kill a child._

_It was impossible to tell the kid’s age. There were needles embedded in the child’s side, connected to tubing that had cracked and broken, artificial soul spilling out like blood onto white skin. The child was impossibly thin, blue eyes wide and sunken, with hands that shook as they held out the soul towards him._

“ _Please..take….you…” The child’s voice was weak, trembling, but he was smiling. Long unkempt blond hair pooled around his head like a halo, and the artificial soul fell from his hands. Kurogane nearly dropped his sword as he moved to catch it, and it felt too warm against his scarred palms._

_He knew what he had come here to do — to find the monster’s heart and run a sword through it. But this hadn’t been what he’d signed up for. He hadn’t come all this way just to kill a skinny malnourished child whose hands hadn’t even been able to close fully around the soul he had offered._

“ _Thank you.” The child was_ smiling. _“It’s too late now…but please…” He gave a wet cough, shuddering again, but his eyes were still bright. “Please…save…”_

_The child’s voice was small, fading, and each breath seemed to cause unimaginable pain. It was impossible to tell how much of the wreck of that body had been due to the attacks Kurogane’s men had visited upon the white phoenix and how much had been done already when the kid had been connected to the machine to begin with, limbs missing and tubing where organs should be, a silver setting against his throat where the soul had once been._

“ _Please…someone…save Yuui…”_

_The child’s entire body shuddered, a death rattle in his throat, and Kurogane knew that prolonging it wouldn’t do him any good. There had been too much damage done. The child stared upwards, and spread his arms wide._

_Kurogane raised his sword and brought it down._

_The breathing slowed, then stopped, and the blue eyes slid closed._

 

_The child was still smiling._

“We were only an experiment, in the end.” Fai’s voice was lulling, almost hypnotic, and his hands were behind his back as he repeated the words like a child reciting a nursery rhyme. “Artificial soul injected into a pregnant mother. Fei Wang wanted to see what it could do. It gave us a tolerance, you could say. Something cunningly shaped like a human.” Fai was still smiling, and even reeling from memories it made Kurogane’s eyes hurt to look at it. “We didn’t even have names, not really. Our mother gave them to us, but they took her away and we forgot them. So we named ourselves. F-1 and Y-1 were the codes stamped on our arms.” He held out one arm, the one Kurogane knew was artificial. “Fai and Yuui. We kept them between ourselves, and didn’t tell anyone else. When we spoke, we spoke only to each other. We were only _real_ , then, when we were together.”

The wind seemed to be rising slightly around him, and behind them there was the crunch of heavy snow as Ginryuu shifted, wings stretching.

“Artificial soul can be injected straight into the body, did you know that, Kurogane? It stunts growth. Fei Wang had to keep us small so we could fit inside the phoenix frame. Not even like a human anymore, by that time. I couldn’t touch Fai at all. Even if we tried to hold onto each other our hands couldn’t reach, trapped inside cold metal walls. Fei Wang kept us apart as much as possible, so we couldn’t ask questions. When he told me to fly, I flew. And when he told me to use my weapons…” Fai stopped, fingers twitching just slightly, like a nervous child. “I grew up in a lab. When I flew above all those people and saw them on the ground — laughing, talking, living their lives — it seemed an amazing thing. I didn’t want to hurt them. But Fei Wang controlled the phoenix frame as much as I did, and I could only watch as all those people — those innocent, smiling people — burned away, one by one. Even inside the frame, I could hear them screaming.” Shadows hung on his smile, a death’s head grin, and Fai put a hand over his eyes.

And behind him, the shadows were growing as well — branched off from Ginryuu’s wings, six shadows were moving.

“I tried to refuse. I thought if I could escape, I could find someone to help Fai, before he was made to do the things I had to do. But I was a fool — of course Fei Wang had prepared for that. He knew we had given each other names. He knew that we thought — that we thought of ourselves as _human._ ” He put a hand to his neck, where the soul pulsed gold. “He took some of _this_ away, and I felt it go. It was hard to move without it. That was when I knew…that I couldn’t possibly be human at all. Only something in the shape of it. An experiment, to the very last.”

Fai’s eyes closed for a moment and he seemed to be wavering as if on the edge of a cliff, feet inches from the edge, and a long steep drop that formed the space between himself and Kurogane.

“I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t stop myself from destroying people who had done nothing to me, and I couldn’t save Fai either. General Ashura…” He gave a heavy sigh, body shuddering, another step closer to that invisible void. “He should have killed me. There wasn’t much left, after his men brought me down. I should have bled out there in the snow, like Fai did.” He glanced over at Kurogane out of eyes that didn’t fit his face. “He told me later, that you were the one who defeated Fai.”

“So that’s why you were waiting here?” Kurogane shifted his stance slightly, eyes on the approaching shadows in the distance, and he didn’t move to draw his sword. “You’re going to take revenge for your brother?”

“Don’t be silly, Kurogane.” Fai gave that laugh again, the one that wasn’t laughter at all, and a shaft of moonlight lit six figures coming up the curve of the hill behind him, Fei Wang’s robot men again with their claws outstretched. The wind was blowing hard, snow dusting everywhere, and the sky above looked almost on fire as black melted to blue melted to red, and Fai stood alone in a pool of shadow. “I came here to ask you to kill me.”

“You—” Kurogane’s hand finally moved to his sword, eyes on the men approaching them, and Fai only smiled and turned, arms outstretched.

“This is what you came for, isn’t it? A masterpiece, right? It won’t do you any good. I watched that man die myself. This is only a useless thing, soon spent. But if you want it…” His fingers twitched, splayed out on either side of the container that held the golden soul, and it began to rotate slowly, shining brighter as if it was about to fall from the slim container that held it.

Kurogane drew his sword and took a step towards him.

“If you kill me first, they’ll leave.” Fai wasn’t looking at him, hands still against his own throat. “This will only last until spring, do you understand, Kurogane? I’m no different than your dragon. Fai’s was stronger, because Fei Wang brought all the punishment on me. But if you stab right through the center of the artificial soul I can take the last of its power with me, and they’ll leave you be. They haven’t been programmed any other way.”

Kurogane took another step, coming up alongside Fai who finally turned to look at him.

“It really was fun, Kurogane. But you can’t hold back a void forever, right?”

Fai smiled, and in a single strong movement Kurogane grabbed the back of Fai’s head and slammed him down face first into the snow.

“Kuro—?” Fai lay there flat in the snow, propped up on his arms as he raised his head, and Kurogane barely spared him a glance, already standing up from the crouched position he’d ended up.

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing.” Kurogane’s voice sounded too calm even to his own ears, anger simmering below the surface — frozen under, like the dragon he’d seen in the lake. Cold as the gravestones of his comrades, barren as that scattered battlefield where nothing remained. “Whatever the hell you did, that’s no business of mine. But I told you before. If someone tries to take away something I’ve sworn to protect, I’ll kill them.”

“I did take that away.” Fai’s voice was almost irritated, and Kurogane couldn’t help the feral smile on his face at hearing it. “That’s why you should kill me and be done with it. I killed your family, your comrades—”

“Fei Wang Reed killed my family. Don’t get ahead of yourself, idiot.” Kurogane wasn’t even looking at Fai now, sword up and ready as Fei Wang’s robots drew closer, trying to keep him penned between them. “I already fought a shitty war to avenge my family. In the end, I had to kill a kid who hadn’t done anything on his own, who thanked me like an idiot while he died. Who gave me a stupid glowing sphere and told me to save you.”

He heard Fai’s body shudder in the snow as Fai drew himself up onto his knees.

“If you want to die, do it on your own. But you don’t die easily when you’re with me.” Fai’s shuffling feet came closer, and even though the moonlight was fading the sky was growing brighter. “I’m tired of watching people jump into your stupid void. I don’t care what time you think you have left. Until your soul burns out you’re going to live, if I have to drag you into spring myself.”

One of Fei Wang’s robots attacked then, a single swift movement as its claws flashed out and Kurogane brought up his sword to deflect. Instead the claws were blocked by something else, just as slim and bright, and Kurogane felt Fai at his back.

“When you put it that way, Kuro-sama, what else am I supposed to do?” Fai’s voice was soft and rueful, claws still outstretched where he’d blocked the enemy’s attack, and Kurogane only smiled in reply.

Ginryuu’s shadow was over them both, Fei Wang’s robots coming in fast across the snow, and Kurogane and Fai stepped forward together.

These machines seemed stronger than the last — quicker, Kurogane realized, gritting his teeth as sharp metal claws flashed past his face and left his cheek bleeding. Where the others had been controlled by men these seemed to move of their own accord, nothing but cold hard programming, designed only to complete their mission regardless of who they had to cut through to do it.

It was irritating. _Machines,_ in the shape of something alive, with nothing else to them beyond that simple usefulness — and his eyes found the shape of Ginryuu again, with her glowing eyes and the shuffle of her wings, and as Kurogane’s sword sliced through enemy after enemy he knew it really wasn’t the same, not at all. If Fai’s void was anywhere it was here, a thing that moved without a will behind it, that had no attachment for anyone or belonged to anyone, simply a lump of metal set to move. There was artificial soul somewhere inside that made its joints move but that wasn’t the same at all, as the bright light of Ginryuu’s eyes, the toss of Mokona’s head, the way Fai’s eyes conveyed nothing and everything all at the same time.

It was quick work. Kurogane could feel Fai at his back keenly the entire time, Fai’s hands moving just as swiftly and surely as Kurogane’s sword, and soon they were surrounded by nothing but a scattering of metal parts. Kurogane sheathed his sword and turned to face Fai.

Fai, who stood behind him with the artificial soul dimming at his throat, eyes raising up to meet Kurogane’s, and still half a step from a cliff’s edge only he could see.

“It’s almost spring.” Fai’s words were soft but sure. “I don’t have much time left, Kurogane. I don’t suppose you’ll indulge me though, will you?”

“That’s right.” Kurogane stepped towards him and Fai began to step back, only to stop when he felt Ginryuu standing there. The dragon had moved all on her own, blocking his retreat.

“You know it’s going to end the same way, right? I’m not human, Kurogane. I never was.” There was a look of something like regret in his eyes, and Kurogane snorted.

“Don’t make me hit you again. You don’t know what will happen when that soul runs out.”

“Didn’t you say it before? That Ginryuu’s soul would only last until spring. If I hadn’t given her Fai’s she wouldn’t be able to move now.”

“You’re not a machine.” Kurogane reached out and grabbed a handful of Fai’s coat, dragging him closer. “Your brother gave me that because he wanted to save you, right?”

“I won’t take it.” Fai shook his head. “I don’t deserve to take what he—”

“That’s not what I meant. When your brother was dying, he took that thing out and he handed it to me.” Kurogane met Fai’s eyes steadily. “He took it out of his body, and gave it to me. And even after it had left his hands, _he was still alive._ ”

“Fai…was…” A desperate shake of the head. “But…”

“You want to take the blame for all the shit you did under Fei Wang’s control? Fine.” Kurogane roughly pushed him back against Ginryuu’s solid metal hide. “Don’t repent with your death. Repent with your _life.”_

“I’m not human.” Fai repeated the words like strings he was desperately trying to hold onto, and his eyes glanced up towards the sky. “That could have been only residual soul maintaining him for a little longer. You don’t know how much time I have left, Kurogane.”

“No one knows that, you idiot.” Kurogane stepped back and let Fai sink down onto his knees in the snow. “And that makes you human too.”

“Kurogane…” Fai looked up at him, eyes fluttering, and finally he smiled, soft and broken and perfectly human. “I suppose…I couldn’t possibly disagree, when you’re stubborn like that.”

Fai held out a hand and Kurogane took hold of it, dragging Fai back to his feet.

Behind them, the sky burst bright as the sun finally rose.

—

The sky was light blue, and the grass was a bright bright green.

Kurogane finished the last sentence of his report, folding the paper and placing it inside an envelope along with the last of Fei Wang’s notes. He didn’t see the need to read any farther than what he already had, and would be sending it back to the capital building in Outo — he needed to stop in the Last Village to retrieve his next order of artificial soul anyway, and resupply. Foraging had been by turns easier and harder now that the snow had melted to reveal the colors of spring underneath, plants that he’d only seen in books suddenly awakening to make an appearance. Figuring out which were edible and which were not was already shaping up to be a fun experience, and if that guy stuffed a spoonful of cooked mushrooms down Kurogane’s throat one more time Kurogane was going to smack him in the head, regardless of the idiot’s condition.

There was a tapping on his door and Kurogane stood, taking the envelope with him and grabbing his pack with his good arm. The mechanical one didn’t move quite as well now, working as it was on a limited supply of artificial soul, but that was fine. One was enough.

The tapping grew more insistent and Kurogane sighed, irritated. It wasn’t like the idiot couldn’t let himself in.

“What do you want?” He pulled the door open roughly with one hand and warm air rushed in against his face.

“So rude, Kuro-sama! And I was just coming to see if you were sleeping in today.” Fai stood there in the doorway, his thick white cloak traded for lighter clothes. Mokona was still by his side and Fai kept one hand on the reindeer’s back a all times, the other closed around his silver staff. His movements were slower than they’d been before, more careful, but still oddly light and graceful for all that.

Fai was smiling, as always, but his eyes were unmoving and blind.

There had only been so much the common type of artificial soul could do, after all. Once the golden soul had faded the mechanical parts of Fai’s body had begun to slow as well, barely moving. Kurogane had assumed that if the arm and leg were just higher end versions of his own mechanical limb then the soul that Kurogane used should work the same with Fai. And it did, more or less — Fai could still move that arm and leg, his movements as flowing and sure as always. But nothing he could do seemed to be able to restore sight to those eyes, and Fai’s smile as he’d asked Kurogane to describe the sun to him had been knowing and resigned.

(Kurogane had told him that the sun was annoying and too bright, and that if he looked at it too long he’d be as blind as Fai. Fai had chided him for a lack of romanticism, and said that it felt warm.)

“I don’t need you to be my wake up call.” Kurogane hoisted his pack up on his shoulder and walked past Fai towards the trees. “I’m going to the Last Village today. You coming?”

Fai made a curious bobbing motion with his head, not quite like a nod as he stepped away from Mokona’s side. Even though his eyes were blind his steps were somehow knowing and sure, as if he had walked this area too long to forget any inch of it.

“Careful you idiot. There’s a cliff edge.”

He knew he didn’t need to say it, but Kurogane let the warning seep into his voice anyway. Fai stopped at the sound and turned to face him, silver staff planted in the solid green velvet of the earth and a vein of sunlight in his air, and a smile blooming on his face.

“Thank you for the warning, Kuro-sama.”

Fai stepped away from the edge, smooth and deliberate with the grace of something that once had wings, and reached for Kurogane’s hand.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone who read this far, if you'd like to drop a vote [ here](https://kurofai.dreamwidth.org/111594.html) please feel free to :)


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